


There's A Universe In Your Eyes

by RinAngel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, Awkward Crush, Body Dysphoria, Celebrities, Cynical Moon Taeil, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Jungwoo Adoration, Heterosexual Sex, Idol Kim Jungwoo, Idols, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kim Jungwoo (NCT)-centric, M/M, Manager Moon Taeil, Moon Taeil-centric, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Sex in later chapters, Sexual Identity, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Soft Kim Jungwoo (NCT), Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 112,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26906482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel
Summary: "Please look back at me often, notice me revolving around you."Moon Taeil is burned out and tired of life as a K-pop manager, until charismatic but unlucky Produce star Kim Jungwoo floats into his space— perhaps the only person who can help him find the appeal in the "idol boyfriend" fantasy. Taeil takes it upon himself to care for Jungwoo, Jungwoo takes it upon himself to care forTaeil, and Taeil finds himself getting sucked into another orbit.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng/Kim Jungwoo (referenced), Kim Jungwoo/Moon Taeil, Kim Jungwoo/Suh Youngho | Johnny (referenced), Moon Taeil/Park Sunyoung | Luna
Comments: 88
Kudos: 144





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my giant Wooil that was supposed to be like 5 chapters and now it's looking like it'll end up 90k~ish by the outline :P This is basically just me being self-indulgent about how much I love Jungwoo and I hope you can absolutely tell. Disclaimers: all of these characters are SM idols, and all of these characters pretty much suck, just out of necessity. All song lyrics are stolen from various SM songs and will be labeled in the chapter notes :)

Moon Taeil was twenty-six, and he was on the cusp of burning out.

Being a manager was _hard_ work, and in nearly three years, he’d had a bad run of luck. His first assignment at SM Entertainment was EXO— there were three different managers that cycled out in order to handle the chaos of the twelve-member boy group, and Taeil never saw anybody last for more than six months before going crazy and quitting. (He lasted only four, himself; no one had mentioned to him how hard it would be to take charge of a boy group that was entirely older than himself.) For a short time after, he stuck to the company offices, doing mundane tasks, realizing that perhaps being bored was better than being challenged. But then the president assigned him to oversee the company’s first girl group, Red Velvet. He spent two years with the girls, who treated Taeil with the utmost respect but were constantly fighting with _each other,_ to the point that he really thought he might lose his mind all over again. Was this what he’d studied music business for? To spend his days splitting up catfights over missing clothes, trying to keep young divas from clawing each other’s eyes out?

“Thank you for coming in when I called you. You’ve always been a diligent manager,” Kim Taeyeon, president of SM Entertainment, surprised Taeil with a smile. She’d been promoted to take over the small company less than a year ago, on the verge of bankruptcy, so it was understandable that she was usually spotted with a frown on her lips and creases in her brow— Lee Sooman hadn’t left her much to work with. Luckily, under her control, EXO had swept the charts for the first time with their most recent comeback, and things were beginning to look up. “You always do your best to let me know exactly what’s going on, and I appreciate that. I can’t be everywhere at once, so I rely on managers like you.”

Truthfully, Taeil had come to meet Taeyeon with the expectation of getting in trouble; his nightmare charges had gotten in another heated argument behind the scenes of a magazine shoot, and Taeil had nearly taken a hand to the face, stepping between Seulgi and Wendy to keep them from killing each other. The director certainly hadn’t been impressed, and Taeil, usually level-headed, had lost it later in the safety of the van. _“Why does it feel like this, to work in entertainment? Can you tell me? I feel like a prison warden! I don’t want to hear anything,_ anything _at all, until we get back to the dorms, okay? Can you follow_ those _directions?”_

“I only do my best,” he replied humbly, managing a tight-lipped smile for his boss. He liked Taeyeon, as little as he knew her, but he wondered if she knew what a chaotic ship she was running. “Truthfully, it’s much tougher than I imagined it would be.”

“Nothing is easy in this industry. Too many details to manage. The artists. The music. The public. The finances.” Taeyeon sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment, almost as though she’d forgotten that Taeil was sitting there. A moment later, she glanced back at him, red-painted lips set back into their severe little frown. “I’ll be blunt with you, then, since you’ve been with the company for awhile. Red Velvet is going under. Bae Joohyun has come to us privately with a request to leave the group and focus on acting. The group is already swarming with nasty rumors. Letting go the member that the public loves the most? It’s like putting the final nail in our coffin.” The words sliced through Taeil like a razor, leaving a sickening sting and a cold panic. He was still struggling to process this - _Why the fuck didn’t Joohyun tell her own manager?!_ \- when Taeyeon went on, tapping her nails on her desk, “EXO is doing well for now, but the public could change their minds at any moment. We can’t put all our faith in them, just in case. We need a new artist. We have no choice.”

That was worrisome news; the trainee pool at SM Entertainment was dwindling with the company money. “Do we have enough trainees for a new boy group?” Taeil asked cautiously, tilting his head to the side as he looked at her. “Sorry. I suppose this is all above my understanding. I don’t assemble groups, I just look after them. Like a kindergarten teacher.”

Surprisingly, this made Taeyeon snort in amusement, and any disrespect she might have extracted from the statement, she let roll off her back. “Well, how would you like to have your class size reduced? Would that reduce your stress as well?” she mused. “Kim Jungwoo is our ace in the hole. I’d like to debut him as a solo singer while he’s still trending in the news.”

“Kim Jungwoo? I see…” Taeil didn’t do a great job of hiding his reservations, which didn’t seem to faze Taeyeon in the slightest. Kim Jungwoo was the trainee that SM Entertainment had sent to the latest season of Produce 101. He’d gotten a good chunk of screen time— not because his company bribed Mnet (they couldn’t afford to) but through his own charisma in front of the cameras. During the final episode ranking, once all was said and done, he’d finished at #11 and _just_ missed the cut-off to be placed into the X1 lineup. Taeil couldn’t even begin to imagine what that felt like. “Are we sure that Kim Jungwoo is ready to debut all by himself? I know he’s popular right now, but is he a strong enough singer to carry himself?”

“I’m not sure it matters if he’s ready or not,” Taeyeon replied candidly, shrugging. “What can we do? If we wait a year and pour our resources into a few more male trainees, his popularity will mean much less. Right now, his fans are still angry because they think Mnet has done him some injustice. Whatever we put out, they’ll buy, and we can try to gain fans little by little with public-friendly songs.” A smile tugged at her lips, just as she uttered the _least_ smile-worthy statement that Taeil had heard in some time: “For now, I’m going to give Red Velvet one of our newer managers, because they’ll be going on hiatus. You’ll be managing Kim Jungwoo from now on, and together, we’re going to fool the public into thinking he’s the year’s number-one rookie. Can you do that?”

“I…” _I don’t know. How should I know?_ Unfortunately, the correct answer was never the professional one. Taeil braved a smile, trying to swallow his discontent. Now that he was in such a critical position, he felt bad that he’d spent the night before updating his resume and planning to submit it at JYP. “I’ll do my best! I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

Before Taeyeon could respond, something over Taeil’s right shoulder caught her gaze. “Excuse me, President-nim…” A soft male voice broke the silence. “I was told that you needed to see me. Is now a bad time?”

“Perfect timing, actually. I’d like you to meet Moon Taeil. He’s your new manager,” Taeyeon introduced warmly, and Taeil hurried to his feet to turn and face his newest tormenter— _artist_. He’d only seen Jungwoo in passing in the SM practice room, and then the Produce clip that went viral on Twitter of his tearful elimination in the very last round of the show. Neither had done well to prepare him for how tall and handsome Jungwoo was up close. His mousy brown hair was long enough to just cover the tops of his ears, and when Taeil looked him in the eye, Jungwoo swept his bangs back self-consciously off of his forehead. His eyes were lovely, dark and deep, and his sweet smile made them crinkle adorably. Wearing athletic pants and an oversized T-shirt, fresh from the practice rooms, he still somehow shone with energy. There was very little question, in Taeil’s mind, of what had won over the hearts of so many teenage girls.

“Manager?” Jungwoo repeated, his eyes lighting up. “Am I debuting? Who are the other members? Am I the first one selected?” He looked from Taeyeon to Taeil, so clearly excited that Taeil could barely hold his gaze.

“We’ve decided together that the best way to move forward is to debut you as a soloist, Jungwoo.” Taeyeon smiled kindly, with a sparkle in her eye, and Taeil shivered a little. He’d forgotten that she’d been an idol before she was a businesswoman, and she sure as hell could still put it into practice. “You’re a natural in front of the cameras. You have a bunch of fans eager to see you debut. You’re the only one who’s ready.”

“By myself?” Jungwoo’s voice jumped in pitch with his redundant question. Yes, what other way was there to be a soloist?

“It might seem scary to think about, but a good soloist is _iconic._ When I say ‘the best idol of all time’, who comes to mind for you? Lee Hyori? Rain? Hyuna?”

Jungwoo wasn’t sold, and it showed on his face. Still, he’d been in the company long enough to know how it worked. He kept his misgivings to himself, answering simply, “Yes, President-nim. It’s just a surprise. I don’t exactly _feel_ ready.”

“We’ll get you there quickly. It will be hard, but it can be done,” Taeyeon said simply. She looked back to Taeil, still wearing that perfectly amicable smile. “This afternoon, you will meet with Choi Minho from Talent Management and Im Yoona from Marketing to select Jungwoo’s first title track. I’d like Jungwoo to report to his vocal lessons as usual, so you can fill him in on the selection later. I’m going to get the two of you set up in your own dorm tomorrow.”

“President-nim, I’m— I’m a songwriter,” Jungwoo suddenly blurted out, cheeks blooming pink. “I have some material that’s almost ready to go.”

“For a debut, it’s better to use a song that we’ve already purchased,” Taeyeon assured him. “Trust me. Taeil is a musician himself. He’s very knowledgeable on music and trends. He will pick out something wonderful for you, I’m sure of it!” She glanced the clock suddenly, adding, “I have a meeting in ten minutes that I need to prepare for. Taeil, I’ll send you whatever you need via email, and you can pass the information to Jungwoo.”

“Yes, President-nim. I won’t let you down,” Taeil said with a forced smile and a bow. He hoped that was the truth. Leading the way out of the office, he waited for Jungwoo by the elevator. He’d seemed a little disappointed in the office, but upon exiting into the hallway he started to chew on his bottom lip like he was worried. Taeil bit the inside of his cheek, himself, but he managed a smile that he hoped passed for apologetic. “I know how you feel, but remember, rookies never get any say in their debut songs. The company wants to figure out how they’ll market you before they think about letting you compose.”

“I wish I could be there, at least, even if I don’t get any say,” Jungwoo fretted, hitting the elevator call button. “After all, it’s my career that’s going to sink or float, isn’t it?”

“Mine, too,” Taeil defended, catching Jungwoo’s eye and silently commanding his gaze. “I represent you and your interests at these meetings, so you don’t need to worry. You’re in good hands.” Jungwoo didn’t seem reassured, based on the way he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, and as the elevator doors opened, Taeil continued on, “Why don’t you tell me what kind of concept you want, and I’ll do my best to pitch it to them?”

“I’d like to do a sexy concept. Something powerful. Something with an elegant choreography,” Jungwoo dictated, stepping into the elevator with his arms crossed. “I don’t rap, but I can sing just about anything. Just make sure it’s a good song. Make sure it’s an _iconic_ song.” He sighed, biting his lip again. “Debuting as a soloist means that it’s all on me, whether I succeed or not. I _want_ to do it, but I’m worried she has too much faith in me.”

“Debuting as a soloist means you don’t have to clamor over your groupmates for camera time. And you don’t have to pile into a three-bedroom apartment with eleven other guys. Be thankful,” Taeil said simply, shooting him a glance. Jungwoo didn’t look back at him, didn’t say anything, just kept his arms folded and tapped his foot while he watched the floor number descend.

Most idols, in Taeil’s experience, started out with a head too big for their own good— and Jungwoo would probably be no different, once the shock wore off. After all, it took a certain type of person to be a celebrity; a certain breed of extroversion, confidence, even narcissism. But the process of debut, that would chew him up and spit him out and let him know whether or not he was cut out for it. They would certainly have to see.


	2. Debut Single: Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration:
> 
> [Hello - SHINee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skZxb5sBoiU&list=FLgM_QTCxpnPSp6EsZbZGiDg&index=1271)

_“SM Entertainment announces that fan favorite Kim Jungwoo, eliminated in the 11th position on Produce X 101, will be making his solo debut on December 9th. His debut song, Hello, describes the hardships and anxieties of falling in love for the first time, and shows off more of the cute charms that viewers across the world fell in love with. SM states that a fan cafe will be opened soon, and a fandom name will be chosen.”_

//

Jungwoo was not impressed with the song. When he put his earbuds in and listened to the demo, he glared daggers across the living room at Taeil the entire time.

“I told them what you wanted, but I think they already had their minds made up based on your Produce edit,” Taeil explained solemnly. He felt, for some reason, like he should be apologizing. He couldn’t exactly blame Jungwoo for hating that trainwreck of a song. “You don’t have to like it. Just perform it well. Unfortunately— this is the way it happens sometimes.”

“‘How does love begin? Somebody, please tell me,’” Jungwoo read aloud off of the lyrics sheet. “‘Will a day come when I can hold your hand?’ These lyrics are juvenile! I can’t believe you said _yes_ to this!”

“Well, I did. And you’re singing it,” Taeil replied evenly, going back to the task at hand, packing their bag for the day. The morning had been spent hauling everything they owned to this tiny little shoebox apartment (they’d have to share a room, _excellent_ ), and the afternoon would pass them by in the studio, so he knew they’d need snacks and water. He was already feeling overexerted, and just the thought of spending the entire afternoon with Jungwoo’s current attitude was giving him a stomachache. “Suck it up. Any other trainee would claw you down for a chance like this, no matter what the song sounded like.”

That shut Jungwoo up pretty quickly. The kid was a lot of things, for sure, but stupid was not one of them. _But he has to be scared about debuting this way. I would be._ He glanced up, thinking that maybe he’d ask, but Jungwoo had stormed off to their shared bedroom. Terrified or not, he was acting like a child. Worse than EXO, he thought with a scoff.

Jungwoo was quiet in the van - he even put his headphones on to make it clear that he had no interest in conversation with his manager - which was just fine with Taeil. He’d bore witness to enough meltdowns in his last placement. Worse than EXO, still, but certainly a step up from Red Velvet. If the worst Jungwoo could do was give him the silent treatment, Taeil was sure that he could handle it.

Kim Jonghyun would be the vocal coach taking Jungwoo for his debut; he’d worked plenty with EXO, so Taeil knew him well, and offered a friendly smile as he led the way into the recording studio. “Hello! Jungwoo is here,” he informed, as if SM’s new ace really needed any introduction. While the idol-to-be put his bag to the side and grabbed a bottle of water, Taeil went on, “It’s been a long morning already, moving our things. And Jungwoo’s, uh…” He smiled, even as he mouthed the word _diva._ When Jungwoo seemed to notice his silence, Taeil finished pointedly, “...tired.”

“Ahh. I see.” The subtle twitch Jonghyun’s lips made it clear that he got the gist, but he said nothing more about it. “Don’t worry. Today will be quick and easy.”

“There’s a meeting I’m supposed to attend upstairs, but you can text me if you need me,” Taeil added as casually as possible, setting his bag down in an empty chair. “Thanks for everything, Jonghyun. By the way, ah… do you know if Park Sunyoung is here today?”

Jonghyun’s expression changed for a split second— he smirked, shaking his head slightly. They’d worked together for years, and Taeil was certain that his dirty laundry had been aired around the company just as much as anybody else’s. _No way he doesn’t know._ “I think she’s in her office,” he said simply, but he spared Taeil the teasing as he turned his attention to Jungwoo’s vocal warm-ups.

 _Thank you, Jonghyun._ Taeil was supposed to be there by Jungwoo’s side, so skipping out on his very first day came with a waver of guilt, but it didn’t last long. He owed himself a selfish moment, having spent an entire morning hauling Jungwoo’s endless _shit_ into their new apartment and then arguing with him about his apparently _terrible_ song choice. Besides, it had been some time since he’d seen Sunyoung.

Park Sunyoung was only one year his senior, and in their university days, she’d happened to be in every one of his music classes. They’d gotten close, dated the semester before graduation, and then Taeil had made the mistake of taking a job at SM Entertainment that sucked up 90% of his free time and 100% of his passion. Sunyoung had made things worse by coming on as a producer, thinking it would be “fun” to see each other around the office, but that only meant that there were two of them overworked and underpaid and ready to snap at the first excuse. They’d split amicably, because neither of them had the time to nurture a relationship. (Well, not a romantic relationship, anyway.)

 _“Fucking shit!”_ Without even opening Sunyoung’s office door, Taeil could tell that the woman would be in a _colorful_ mood. Sunyoung was a spitfire if he’d ever known one, and she might have loved music enough to get a degree in it, but working for a company as incompetent as SM was wreaking havoc on her sanity. _God,_ he really felt for her. “I swear to God, if you crash and I have to restart this project _again—”_

“Heads up, I can hear you in the hallway,” Taeil interjected as he entered without bothering to knock, though Sunyoung’s eyes remained glued to her computer. She _did_ look more disheveled than usual, wearing her glasses rather than her contacts, and her dark hair pulled into the messiest of messy buns— but in her way, she was still gorgeous, or at least Taeil thought so.

“Good. Let them hear me,” Sunyoung replied adamantly, dismissing his concern with a wave of her hand. “Maybe then they’ll know I need a computer that actually runs!” She huffed as the computer once again blue-screened, turning to face Taeil with a faux-sweet smile. “Anyway, what can I do for you? Are you here for sex?”

“Don’t— don’t say it so casually like that!” Taeil scoffed, trying to downplay his sudden blush. “Anyway, you seem like you’re busy, so I’ll stop in later on. It’s— _really_ not that important.”

“Yes it is!” Sunyoung responded _far_ too quickly, as though she’d anticipated the response she’d gotten. “I’m stressed! I need something different to think about!” She stood from her desk and reached across it to grip Taeil’s sleeve, giving him her practiced puppy-dog eyes. “Something else, like… your head between my thighs, maybe?”

“We’re at work! And you’re older than me, noona, you’re in a position of power! I don’t think you should be saying those sorts of things to me!” Taeil chided, grinning despite himself. Man, they weren’t right for a relationship together, but he still loved this girl. There weren’t many people in the world who understood him the way that Sunyoung did, his strengths and his flaws and his passions.

“Oh, yeah. And what were _you_ coming to see _me_ for, Mr. Hotshot Manager?” Sunyoung shot back, a smirk playing on her cherry-red lips.

“Point taken.”

“That’s what I _thought_ . Let’s go find an empty booth, shall we?” Sunyoung led the way, shutting her office behind her. The SM business offices were crummy, with paper-thin walls, but the recording studios were quite nice. And being that they were all crammed together in one wing, they _had_ to be soundproof. They even walked past the room where Jonghyun was hopefully putting Jungwoo through his paces and humbling him a little bit, and Taeil felt a twinge of residual guilt.

“Hey, I never told you what happened to me,” Taeil said absently while Sunyoung took care of all the precautions (“recording in progress” sign, door locked, chair wedged up under the doorknob _just_ in case). “I’m no longer managing Red Velvet, as of today.”

“I heard from Minho oppa! Kim Jungwoo? _So_ lucky,” Sunyoung gushed, setting her glasses on the soundboard and letting her hair down. “I voted for him all season long on Produce, even though I wasn’t supposed to! He’s a cutie pie, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t watch the show. You think I have time to watch TV?”

“Well, then, you missed out! He’s very funny and _very_ adorable!” Sunyoung replied indignantly. “But anyway… are you sure you want to keep talking about work right now? How about taking some of those clothes off?”

Taeil blinked. Sunyoung’s sweater was discarded to the floor, and with her words, she let her bra drop on top of it. Instantly feeling hot from head to toe, he wasted no time in tossing aside his jacket and t-shirt. Sunyoung’s arms were around him before he could get much further, her lips tracing the shell of his ear.

“You must really be stressed. You haven’t even kissed me yet. Rude.”

“I’m sorry!” Taeil couldn’t help but laugh as he apologized, and he pressed her firmly back against the wall behind her to make amends. Sunyoung’s kisses always tasted the same, like cherry lip balm and cinnamon gum, and she always giggled just the same when he pulled back from them with her lipstick all over him. “I’ll make it up to you…”

The great thing about friends with benefits, _really good_ friends with benefits, was that you had time to perfect the sex. Taeil and Sunyoung had been at it for more than three years, after all, and rather than getting bored of each other, things only seemed to get better all the time. Afterwards, while Taeil gathered his clothes and cleaned himself up (she thought it was pretty funny to mark up his neck with lipstick, too), Sunyoung had settled into the booth’s cushy chair in nothing but her bra and panties, looking spent and flushed.

“You gotta come over and see my new apartment sometime,” she spoke up, groping for her sweater at last. “That way we can fuck and I can enjoy my sex coma afterwards. You know I have two more meetings today?”

“Hey, I have to go back to Jungwoo,” Taeil pointed out, using his phone as a mirror to try and flatten out his sex-hair. “And I don’t even get to go home and escape from him at the end of the work day, do you know that? I live _in his bedroom._ You know, being a guy managing a girl group was the _sweetest_ deal because the company paid for a separate apartment for me. I was only ever there to sleep, but at least I had _that.”_

“You’re sharing a bedroom? _Lucky!”_ Sunyoung scoffed. “That sounds like a great gig. I’ll trade you. Think he’d be opposed to pushing the beds together?”

“Are you implying that you want to sleep with Jungwoo when you _just_ slept with me?”

“Hey, it’s nothing personal. He’s just hot. I’m not saying you’re _not_ hot,” Sunyoung backtracked defensively. It only took her a moment to twist her hair back up, but she was meticulous about her lipstick, opening a compact mirror. “Do you think you can get me an autograph? Oh— a signed album! No problem? Right?” She made a thumbs up at Taeil, and frowned when he didn’t immediately make one back. “Just because you don’t like Jungwoo, don’t take it out on me!”

“Maybe. _Maybe._ We’ll see,” Taeil conceded with a little sigh. “Speaking of our little prince, I guess I should get back to him. If I keep him waiting, I’m afraid he’ll throw a tantrum and trash the place.” He leaned over Sunyoung to press one more kiss against her forehead. “Enjoy your meetings, noona. Text me. I promise I’ll answer if I’m not hanging from the dorm rafters by my bathrobe sash.”

“Taeil! Don’t say that! That’s _fucking_ terrible!” As he passed her by, predictably, she gave him a smack on the ass that practically echoed in the small room, and probably left a handprint through the denim of his jeans. “Bye! Thanks for the distraction!”

As it turned out, Taeil was getting worried over nothing— Jonghyun and Jungwoo were mid-lesson when he slipped back into the voice studio, running through the lines of that cursed song that Jungwoo so hated. _“Hello, hello, though I might stutter; who knows, one day we might—”_

“Don’t push so hard. You’ll run out of air,” Jonghyun interrupted, firm but patient as always. “Try again. You don’t need to sing loudly to sing with support.”

“Sorry, teacher-nim. I’m really trying,” Jungwoo replied in earnest, sweeping his hair back with his fingers.

“You seem nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous.”

Taeil was surprised to hear the words out of Jungwoo’s mouth, and he couldn’t help himself from the derisive little snort that made Jungwoo’s eyes finally turn on him. “You’ve already sang on national TV. Singing in front of Jonghyun should be nothing in comparison.”

“Oh, there you are. Nice of you to come back for me,” Jungwoo replied coolly, head whipping back to his lyric sheet before Taeil could formulate a reply.

“I told you, I had a meeting.”

“I don’t need Jungwoo for much longer today,” Jonghyun spoke up, commanding Jungwoo’s attention with his voice and tactfully preventing another argument from breaking out. “If you don’t have any other schedules today, you should go home after this and rest. You still have a lot of work to do before this debut album can drop, so take care of yourself.” They ran through the chorus a few more times; it was the easiest bit of the song, but Jonghyun was strict when it came to vocal technique, especially with the ones he knew were capable. “Okay, you’re going to hate this, but my advice is to just keep singing it until it’s perfect. Keep your tone bright. _Smile._ This is a love song, so pretend you’re singing it to a girl that you like. And if you need any pointers on how to take care of your voice, your manager can help you. You might not know this yet, but Taeil is an amazing singer.”

“Really?” Jungwoo’s expression was one of annoyance, and he didn’t spare Taeil much of a glance. “Wouldn’t have guessed. Thank you for all your help, teacher-nim. I promise, I’ll have the chorus _perfect_ before the next time we meet!”

“Great! I look forward to it! Work hard!” Jonghyun dismissed Jungwoo with a smile; to Taeil’s inquiring look, he only shrugged, mouthing, _He’s cute._

 _For now_ , Taeil thought gravely, forcing a smile as he bid Jonghyun goodbye. He and Jungwoo had been awake since early, and it was time to go home, but the work never done: Taeil had to grocery shop for the apartment, and Jungwoo had his mandated English studying to complete, along with all the unpacking that they hadn’t made time for yet. They made their way down to the ground floor and out back to the staff parking garage.

“I hope things are going well with Jonghyun hyung,” Taeil spoke up cautiously, once inside the quiet and privacy of the company van. “He nitpicks out of love. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want you to sound your best.”

“That’s all fine. I’ve had tougher vocal coaches than him,” Jungwoo replied icily, making Taeil’s blood run cold with his tone. “But a manager who skips out on training and comes back forty-five minutes later smelling like women’s perfume? That’s a little harder for me to swallow.”

“I had a meeting. And anyway,” Taeil frowned slightly, putting a hand on Jungwoo’s chest and pushing him back into the passenger seat. “Don’t smell me. It’s not professional.”

“Neither is going to get laid while you’re supposed to be working!” Jungwoo crossed his arms. “Listen, I’m more observant than you’re giving me credit for, all right?”

“It’s day one of our time together,” Taeil spoke up, coming close to stepping on the end of Jungwoo’s words. “My patience has been worn thin— _long_ before you and I met. You’re walking on raw nerves right now, and I slept like crap last night, so maybe don’t make accusations against me when you have no proof. Let’s keep things harmonious for as long as possible, all right?” He started the van, and only glanced at Jungwoo to make sure his seat belt was buckled before shifting the vehicle into motion, adding as a final stinger: “Besides, I’m _your_ manager. You’re not _my_ manager.”

Jungwoo laughed - not an uncomfortable laugh, or an obligatory one, but a genuinely amused giggle that only tweaked Taeil’s nerves again. But he popped his earbuds back in at once, closing his eyes. “Yes, hyung.”

 _This stupid kid. Not even an apology. Is there a single sane artist in this company?_ It was so tempting, then, to call up Taeyeon and tell her that she was crazy, that he _wouldn’t_ do this, but music was a tricky business— he’d been waiting for a higher opening in the company, but if he jumped ship now, the only place there was to go was lower. And the only thing lower than a manager was a personal assistant. Maybe, if he was lucky. He couldn’t stomach it.

It wasn’t until later, when Taeil shut himself in the bathroom to shower and enjoy ten minutes of true solitude, that he noticed the faint but unmistakable mark of Sunyoung’s teeth in his neck— on the right side, the perfect position for Jungwoo to notice while sitting beside him in the car. Clearly, the kid _was_ more observant than Taeil gave him credit for, but he was the manager and Jungwoo was _just_ an idol, and that meant that Taeil didn’t have to answer for shit.

//

The days preparing for a comeback were always exceedingly long. Jungwoo woke up at 5 AM daily to exercise, and Taeil would drag himself out of bed like a zombie to make a full pot of coffee and a giant pan of scrambled eggs (one of about four foods that Jungwoo was allowing himself in the name of weight loss). They ate in silence, usually, or else Taeil would dictate last-minute changes to the daily schedule and Jungwoo would say not much of anything.

Once the morning chores were done, it was time to head to the company building. Jungwoo had vocal training and recording sessions in the mornings, and once the recording was done, SM filled this time with PR and camera training. (Before getting into the industry, Taeil had never imagined that a person would need special training to look into a camera and talk, but like everything else in the idol world, filming was a totally different animal behind-the-scenes.)

Then in the afternoons, Jungwoo reported to dance practice with the company’s best teacher, Lee Taemin, who was respected across the industry despite never being able to make his own lessons on time. Dance went from whenever Taemin decided to join them until whenever Taemin decided he was too hungry to teach anymore, and then Taeil would take Jungwoo home to feed him something simple and healthy (or, on the worst days, instant noodles). Jungwoo would practice his singing into the night, usually, driving Taeil crazy while he sorted out schedules and arranged interviews.

On this day in particular, Taeil and Jungwoo were the ones running late to dance practice— they’d had to go to the salon that morning in order to cut and dye Jungwoo’s hair for his upcoming video shoot. The stylists had selected a lovely honey blond, long and messy; it looked nice with his fair skin and made his dark eyes pop on his face. Jungwoo wasn’t used to the cut yet, and on the car ride back to the company building, he kept having to push it out of his eyes.

“Stop staring at me so much. The light is green.”

“I’m not staring,” Taeil defended, attention going back to the road. This was all a symptom of exhaustion, had to be. In all his time as a manager, he couldn’t remember having been more tired. “You look nice, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Jungwoo sounded surprised that Taeil had positive commentary in his repertoire. “Thank you.” His reply was quiet, and with that, neither of them spoke another word.

“Sorry! Traffic was insane,” Taeil called out on his way into the practice room— drawing four pairs of eyes onto him, none of which belonged to Taemin. They were trainees, he recognized, though he knew little more than their names: Johnny, Jaehyun, Taeyong, and Donghyuck. (Taeil took a minute to thank his lucky stars that they hadn’t been debuted as a boy group. Taeil didn’t want to be in charge of Johnny, he was terrifying.) “Sorry, are we in the wrong practice room? Have you seen Taemin hyung?”

“This is the right place,” Jaehyun answered, though he looked none too pleased about it. “Taemin was getting tired of waiting, so he ran across the street for coffee. He said he’d be right back. We’re your backup dancers.”

“Ah…” Taeil answered shortly, trying not to let his slight disappointment show on his face. The important artists got a team of professional dancers behind them. The _cheap_ artists, on the other hand, got trainees, who would work for free. Jungwoo might have ben SM’s last hope, but Taeil was naive to think they wouldn’t cut corners, anyway. “Jungwoo, you should warm up, before Taemin gets back, that way—”

But just like that, Jungwoo wasn’t beside him anymore; his back was turned to Taeil as he began to stretch and prepare. Taeil had been expecting to see some kind of warm greeting, but only Johnny greeted him and asked him how his preparations had been, while the others kept to themselves on the other side of the room. _Didn’t they all used to live together? Strange._ He still couldn’t say he liked Jungwoo much, but at least he made his best _effort_ to like him. The air in the practice room was cold, even when Taemin returned with his latte, acting like it wasn’t twenty-five minutes past their meeting time.

“All right, everyone get to your places. We have limited time to make this happen, so let’s start from the top.”

(Taeil waited for Taemin to turn his back before he let out a massive, _massive_ eye roll. Whose fault was that?!)

Luckily, a manager only needed to be a passive eye in the practice room, so Taeil could tune out the music and absorb himself in his other work. Jungwoo had a magazine interview the next morning (did people even read magazines anymore?), the dates of the music video filming hadn’t yet been hammered down— that wasn’t to mention, the daunting chunk of dates in Taeil’s calendar after debut, when they’d go two weeks without an empty day in their schedule. Taeil knew he could do it, but this would be a real test of stamina for Jungwoo.

“Jungwoo, you’re _leading_ the others. The backup dancers are going to be looking to you for what to do. You’re the _star!_ Why do you keep looking at your feet?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Just stop messing up. Start from the chorus!” Taemin stood back to watch, rewinding the music to the pre-chorus. _“Will a day come when I can hold her hand? When I can kiss her closed eyes?”_

Taeil glanced up with curiosity from his phone screen. It was a simple dance, and Jungwoo had been practicing on his own for days. Really, there was no reason for mistakes— but even Taeil could see his missteps, or rather, his _lack_ of steps. Now, with Taemin watching him even harder, Jungwoo was freezing up. Taemin, clearly, was not amused.

“Jungwoo, don’t get thrown off just because there are other dancers here,” Taemin stated impatiently, cutting the music once more. “Pretend you’re on stage by yourself! These people behind you? They’re only here to make you look better.” Taemin paused, his eyes drilling into Jungwoo, who couldn’t seem to lift his eyes off of the floor. “Unless you’d rather the crowd watch Johnny. Or Donghyuck.”

“No.”

“Then quit thinking so hard.” Taemin grabbed his coffee cup, paused, sighed. “Let’s take five, I’m going to go buy another coffee. Jungwoo, I want you _out_ of your head when I come back.”

Jungwoo didn’t respond, and he didn’t relax when the dance teacher walked away, either. He shook his head hard, making his hair fly, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as if to wake himself up. The sight actually made Taeil pity him, and he pursed his lips in thought. It was a manager’s job to support his artist— he wished there was something he could do here, just to make Jungwoo’s life easier, but Taeil couldn’t do much of anything about plain old exhaustion. Jungwoo had to power through it, just like every other idol who stepped into the practice room running on fumes.

“Should we try to fix it while he’s gone?” Donghyuck asked with a little frown on his face. He was the youngest, still baby-faced, and while his words were formal, his tone was cross. “I don’t know why you’re making it so difficult. Didn’t you dance harder songs at your trainee evaluations?”

“Not that well,” Taeyong broke in, speaking up for the first time that Taeil had heard that day. Lee Taeyong had been training for two years, and had once been SM Entertainment’s “secret weapon” trainee. A badly timed shoulder injury had kept him from competing alongside Jungwoo on Produce 101, but even so, his dancing was sharper and more confident than what Jungwoo could manage. Maybe he was in a place to critique, but the venom in his tone gave Taeil a bad taste in his mouth. “What can you expect, though? SM Entertainment picks their artists based on their faces, not their skills. That’s what they think the public wants these days.”

Taeil was well-versed in intercepting fights between band members, but fights between idols and backup dancers was uncharted territory. Technically, he wasn’t Taeyong’s boss, but he still felt some responsibility to step in. “Hey—”

“I’m sorry I make you so insecure with my looks, Taeyong,” Jungwoo stomped on the beginning of Taeil’s warning, his tone sickly sweet and dripping with informality. “Do you really think that’s the only difference between us? Because people all over the _world_ know my name, which is more than you can say.”

“That’s _‘hyung’_ to you, you little _shithead—”_

“Stop!” Taeil’s command rose above the din of voices in the practice room. None of them had ever heard Taeil raise his voice before, and it worked well enough to bring order, even though Donghyuck and Johnny maintained their body placement, ready to catch Taeyong and pull him off of Jungwoo if he attacked. (Taeil sure appreciated it.) Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continued, “This argument is over. Jungwoo, step outside and cool off. The video shoot is in two days, so nobody is going to be able to leave here tonight until you fix whatever needs to be fixed. Work together. I don’t care if you hate each other. Fake it if you have to.”

“Great advice, manager hyung,” Jungwoo spat the words out bitterly, turning on his feet before Taeil could see his face and marching towards the door. He didn’t return until several minutes later, behind Taemin and his second cup of coffee; Jungwoo’s eyes were red-rimmed and glassy with tears, and Taeil felt a little stab of guilt for not checking up on him. Was he really supposed to? Jungwoo never seemed to want his input _anyway._

Taeil was thankful when the music came back on. The music was what he loved about his job, and sometimes it was good to remember what he was there for. Besides, _Hello_ really wasn’t a bad song, once you listened to it a couple of times.

//

Jungwoo said very little through the rest of practice, dutifully rehearsing the problem parts of the dance until everything was smooth. It was nearly 9 PM when they left the SM building that night. Taeil’s feet hurt in sympathy for Jungwoo, but if the young idol were in any discomfort from the long, repetitive practice, he didn’t show it. “What do you want for dinner? Should we stop and get food at the convenience store?”

“Hm. Whatever.”

“Actually, I’ll cook. We have vegetables that should be used.”

“Fine.”

Then silence. How was Jungwoo so _okay_ with the silence? It made Taeil’s skin crawl. As they pulled into the parking garage at the apartment complex, he spoke up a little more firmly, bringing back his “manager voice” for just a moment. “Are you still stewing about what Taeyong said to you earlier? What are you going to do when you start getting hate comments?”

“I’m not really pressed about what he said, since I know he’s just jealous,” Jungwoo said coldly, getting out of the van and starting his walk towards the door without waiting for Taeil; the manager had to sprint briefly to catch back up to Jungwoo’s side. “I’m a little irritated that nobody except me told him off, though. Not even you.”

“That would have started a fight. It would have been unnecessary,” Taeil replied, voice strained.

“It would have been ‘unnecessary’ to show that you believe in the idol you’re supposed to be representing?” Jungwoo challenged, pressing firmly ahead without a glance Taeil’s way. “I know none of them have much faith in me, but I was hoping that you did. Do you know what it’s like, creating a song that everybody already expects to flop?”

Taeil frowned. Obviously, this had been weighing on Jungwoo for some time— poor kid. Lots of idols knew what it was like to be the last remaining hope of their company, but Jungwoo had to endure all of that without even a groupmate to share it with. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought about it that way before. “I don’t expect you to flop,” he said softly. Like it would help at this point.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks,” Jungwoo sighed. When Taeil opened the door and held it for Jungwoo to go into the lobby first, the singer shook his head. “I’m going for a run. I need to be by myself for a bit.” He popped his headphones back into his ears, back turning pointedly to his manager, and Taeil crossed his arms.

“You just danced for hours. Is it really a good idea to go running? Besides, if something happens when I’m not with you, I’m pretty sure it’s still my responsibility, so…”

“I’ll be right back,” Jungwoo reiterated, turning to face Taeil at last with eyes daring him for another challenge. After the day they’d had, something told Taeil that the last thing he wanted to do was pick a fight once more.

“Do you have your phone? Just in case?”

“I don’t have a phone, didn’t you know? I’m not allowed one until I get my first music show win.” Jungwoo crossed his arms right back, as though this were somehow Taeil’s fault. _Fine._ He sighed, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket and handing it over to Jungwoo.

“There you go. Now you can at least call 112 if someone tries to kidnap you. Be safe.”

“At least someone in this company cares about me!” Jungwoo smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He lifted the phone in thanks as he jogged off, and Taeil sighed as he entered the elevator, immediately leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. The days were just so _long_ , and before he knew it, the next one would be starting.

Back up in the apartment, Taeil took off his shoes, put their things away, and made the preparations for dinner. If there was one thing he was confident on, at least, it was that Jungwoo liked his cooking— there were never leftovers. He started the rice cooker and chopped up chicken, garlic, and mushrooms to simmer on the stove. Once things were coming along nicely, he slipped his tablet out of its case and sent a quick message to Sunyoung. _“Do you think I really ought to watch Produce 101?”_

Her message back was nearly instant: _“Don’t you think it’s your responsibility to know what a precious bundle of sunshine you’ve been entrusted with?”_ And then another: _“You don’t have to watch the whole show, just watch this.”_

“This” was a fan-made compilation of Jungwoo’s scenes throughout the series, opening with his audition. It had been just months ago, but Jungwoo looked years younger. His face had been fuller, his eyes brighter, and he’d stood petrified before the judges as the only trainee present from SM Entertainment. _“My name’s Kim Jungwoo, from SM Entertainment. I’ve been a trainee for two years and three months.”_

He’d showcased both his singing and his dancing in his audition. His dancing was good (“Run” by BTS, and he’d hit every step with precision), but his voice cracked in the beginning of his vocal audition, out of nerves. He’d been rattled, but he’d finished strong— and “Lucky” by EXO had been an inspired choice for his clear, soft voice. Jungwoo sang as though he were scared to be too loud, the judges ruled; he needed more confidence. Taeil agreed.

But what Jungwoo had been even more known for, at least among the fans, was his natural charm in front of the cameras. Jungwoo had a wit in his confessionals, an uncommon mix of self-aware adorability and intelligence. He could always spot a camera during group filmings, and usually had the quick-mindedness to strike a pose or throw a heart. His expressions were good, the way he talked was engaging, the way his face lit up when he laughed— he was simply _fun_ to watch. He smiled, and he made Taeil want to smile. Why didn’t Jungwoo smile these days?

When the front door opened and Jungwoo came back into the apartment, silent as ever, Taeil had just finished packing up the freshly cooked meal into the refrigerator, ready for them to eat the next night. He pulled flour, sugar, and salt from their meager pantry, and even Jungwoo, stone-faced, slowed his step on his way through the kitchen. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes,” Taeil replied simply, standing on his toes to reach the biggest mixing bowl on the top shelf. Pancakes were _not_ a diet-approved food for promotions, they both knew that, but Taeil also knew that an idol couldn’t live up to their potential working sixteen hour days on nothing but salads and vitamin pills. Jungwoo’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t argue.

“Cool. I’m gonna go shower.”

“Take your time. I won’t start cooking them until I hear the water turn off.”

Taeil opened the refrigerator for milk and eggs, his back to Jungwoo— he couldn’t see him, but he could hear the smile in Jungwoo’s voice as he replied: “Thanks. You’re the best, hyung.”

 _You’re the best._ As Jungwoo walked away, Taeil found himself grinning in triumph. He’d remind Jungwoo of this the next time things went sour.

There was a trace of a smile when Jungwoo joined him at the table ten minutes later, still wet-haired and shirtless, and he dug into the pancakes with enthusiasm. Taeil sat in the chair opposite, eating a bit more slowly while he collected his thoughts. It was the same old silence, but this time, Jungwoo didn’t seem quite as resistant to changing it.

“Hey… Just so you know, you’re right, and I’m sorry,” Taeil said after a moment, and the apology felt awkwardly heavy in the air. “I— I’m supposed to represent your interests, and I’m supposed to support you. And I didn’t today, but I intend to in the future. I know you’ve had a difficult beginning, but I think you’re doing just fine, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo’s eyes went wide at the admission, and he stopped eating for a moment as he processed this— and then, for the first time ever in Taeil’s presence, he grinned. “You know, this is the first time anyone’s told me that I started working on this debut?”

“I know! I’m sorry. I probably should have told you earlier, SM is kind of a shithole company. We’re all overworked and underpaid, so forgive me if we all seem like hollowed-out zombies.” Taeil managed a smirk and a snort of amusement to soften it into a half-joke. “Even so, I can do better, and I will.”

The smile that lingered on Jungwoo’s lips was subtle, but it warmed his face and his eyes, even made him look slightly less tired. “Thank you, hyung,” he spoke softly, setting his fork down completely and wiping his mouth in pause. “You know… I was eighteen when I started training at SM, three years ago. It seems like I just got here yesterday, and it also feels like I’ve been here for a million years. I can’t imagine anything more exhausting than what I’ve done to get here, but at the same time, I’d do this forever if it kept me onstage.”

“You like it that much?” Taeil wasn’t sure how to label the wistful stab of emotion that struck him. _Jealousy,_ maybe.

“Absolutely.” Jungwoo got to his feet, bringing his plate to the sink. “Finish eating so I can clean up. I think I’m ready to go to bed early. It’s been a long day.”

Taeil smiled grimly, spearing the final piece of pancake on his plate. “Just wait. They’re _all_ long.”

//

Music videos were a lot of work, but Taeil enjoyed being onset: he found that a comeback didn’t quite feel “real” until this point, until he could understand the aesthetic and the story of the track. How it came together was beyond his comprehension, but it was remarkable to watch. It was one of the few times that he could immerse himself somewhat in the idol fantasy: for a day, EXO _felt_ like badass dancing aliens, Red Velvet _felt_ like five sorta-creepy-mostly-cute girls on a quest for some weird vindictive revenge. What would Jungwoo _feel_ like? Kim Kibum, the art director, was being aggravatingly tight-lipped about his plans for the debut MV. That either meant that he was sitting on some pure genius, or he trying to phone in some shit concept and he didn’t want anyone to realize it until the last second.

Taeil didn’t have a great feeling, and he wasn’t at all reassured by the school uniform that he saw hanging on Jungwoo’s styling rack, among a few other bright and stylish outfits that he would rotate through. Jungwoo didn’t exactly seem thrilled either, but there was no denying that he pulled it off. He looked like a petulant child, pouting into the mirror while one stylist straightened his blond hair and another filled in his eyebrows. Taeil found himself grinning, and he attempted to step out of Jungwoo’s line of sight when the idol saw him in the mirror.

“Quit laughing at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you. You’re just cute.”

Jungwoo’s lips twitched, trying and failing not to smile. _“Aish._ Stop it. I’m so miserable right now.”

“Too bad. Don’t forget to smile for the cameras!” Taeil forced a smile himself, and felt awkward as always. He wasn’t sure how idols could do it, smile when they weren’t happy.

“When have I ever?” Jungwoo asked coolly, and that was all he had time to say before the girl working on his makeup scolded him for moving too much.

Jungwoo certainly seemed sour enough about his styling, but once he stepped in front of the camera, Taeil couldn’t see it. His energy shifted seamlessly from sulky, overtired child to sweet and charming schoolboy. There was no indication that his smile wasn’t genuine while he threw hearts and blew kisses all over the set, or that he was dying inside as he thrust a bouquet of fake flowers at the camera and did his famous little pout and puppy-dog eyes. Even when they moved on to the choreography shots and brought in the backup dancers, Jungwoo seemed more focused on the camera than anything else, and they made it through all of the dancing in just a few takes.

As music video shoots went, _Hello_ was surprisingly short and sweet— they’d arrived at 8 in the morning for hair and makeup, and it was barely 6 PM as they got ready to leave. “I can’t remember a single Red Velvet music video taking less than twelve hours to shoot,” Taeil commented from the doorway of Jungwoo’s dressing room; Jungwoo had changed back into his hoodie and baggy jeans, but was meticulously fixing his hair in the mirror, trying to maintain the neat and straightened look that the stylists had given him. He was still wearing eyeliner and lip tint, and Taeil raised an eyebrow. “You know, I packed makeup removal wipes. Doesn’t all that stuff feel heavy on your face?”

Jungwoo shrugged, still checking out his reflection. “It still looks nice. I wanna stay cute for a little while longer. Without the ridiculous clothes, I kind of like this look!” His smile turned sly, and he wheeled around on his feet to face Taeil, accusing, “You even said I’m cute! I’ve melted your icy heart!”

 _“Ouch._ Am I that bad?”

“You don’t smile that much. It’s okay, though! I think it makes you seem _suave.”_ Jungwoo teased, eyes glimmering. Considering how early they had woken up, he was irritatingly peppy. He seemed— _exhilarated_ , maybe that was it. Like slaving away under those hot lights had filled him up instead of draining him. “Anyway, are we done here? I’m _starving._ I want Taco Bell!”

 _“I_ was waiting for _you_ to finish preening. Come on, slowpoke.” Taeil shouldered his bag and beckoned for Jungwoo to follow, and despite all his best efforts, he couldn’t keep the beginnings of a smile off of his lips.

The dynamic between them had changed: still slightly awkward, still not always on the same wavelength, but pleasant day-to-day. Jungwoo was moody, easy to anger (though mostly when he was hungry), and stubborn in what he wanted— but at the same time he was endearingly funny, deceptively intelligent, and just the right amount of _shameless._ In fact, Jungwoo had single-handedly changed Taeil’s opinion that Taeyong might have done better than him as an idol. Taeyong had the looks and the technical skills, but Jungwoo knew the _game._ Charisma was a skill, too, and Jungwoo had charisma to spare.

In the car, Taeil buckled his seatbelt and tossed his phone absentmindedly into the empty cupholder between the seats, and Jungwoo wasted no time in scooping it up— he’d seen Taeil’s unlock pattern once and remembered it forever, it seemed, which was only _mildly_ concerning. “It’s crazy, that they won’t let you have a phone until your first win, but then they still expect you do livestreams and post to the fan cafe. Assholes,” Taeil muttered, not giving Jungwoo much more than a glance as the younger flipped through his apps.

Jungwoo burst into laughter, as though caught off-guard by the sudden obscenity. “Actually, I was just going to snoop through your music. All the stuff that’s on the radio right now sucks.”

_“Hey!”_

“Relax. You have good taste,” Jungwoo complimented him, smirking, as though that settled everything. It didn’t take him long to select a track and crank the stereo volume— _How Did We Get,_ Lee Hyori and Daesung, a song which immersed Taeil instantly in memories of his high school days, going after school to the training academy and singing with his friends between lessons. Talking about the day when they’d all be singers, maybe even standing onstage together. (Ha.)

Jungwoo sang with strength and conviction, as though he _hadn’t_ been up since the crack of dawn. He’d improved steadily with Jonghyun’s guidance, his expression better, his breaths more stable, and— wow, it actually made Taeil kind of proud, even though he had nothing to do with it. He listened without interrupting, eyes on the road, but after the first verse, Jungwoo spoke: “Jonghyun is always telling me what a fantastic singer you are. Sing with me.”

Jonghyun needed to learn to keep his mouth shut, Taeil wanted to counter, but all he could do was sigh. “I’ve been yelling at people all day at the shoot. My voice is garbage right now. And I’m not warmed up.”

“I’m not warmed up, either! This is an easy song,” Jungwoo replied brightly.

“Then don’t sing it! You’re going to wear out your voice, and your promotions start next week!” Taeil spoke incredulously, half scolding and half amused.

“Oh, please. I’m fine,” Jungwoo dismissed with a wave of his hand. But much to Taeil’s surprise, Jungwoo obeyed him, chattering on: “This album came out when I was twelve years old. I asked my dad for an advance on my allowance so I could buy it the day it dropped.”

Taeil snorted. “I can picture that. And you pouted until he said yes?”

“Listen, I don't mess around when it comes to Lee Hyori. My dad knows this. There was no argument," Jungwoo described adamantly, and when Taeil snuck a glance his way while waiting in traffic, he was stricken by the smile that the idol wore. Jungwoo had two very distinct smiles: there was the PR smile, bright but demure and closed-lipped, carefully contained so that his face didn’t wrinkle and his eyes didn’t get lost, and then there was the smile that came when all the cameras were off, which was all teeth and dimples and made his eyes sparkle. _His glittery smile,_ Taeil thought to himself without meaning to, and he turned his attention shyly back to the road. “Somewhere, probably at my dad’s house, is a home video of three-year-old me dancing to To My Boyfriend by Fin.K.L wearing all of my mom’s costume jewelry. Next time I go home, I’ll ask my dad if he’s thrown it out already.” There was a weird sort of somberness to these last words, and before Taeil could inquire why in the world something so precious would be thrown out, Jungwoo flipped the conversation: “Tell me about you, now. What were you like growing up? Unless you were built in the SM basement to be the perfect robo-manager.”

Taeil could recognize a thinly veiled dig at himself, but he let Jungwoo have it this time. Truthfully, he was more worried about what he was going to say and how he was going to say it, because talking about his family was like walking across a half-rotted bridge. Step lightly, step carefully.

“My childhood wasn’t anything special,” Taeil answered carefully, feeling a rush of gratitude when he saw the restaurant come into view. Not that he was terribly hungry, but reading a menu board was a great excuse to stall the conversation and maybe steer them into a new topic. “I grew up here in Seoul. Studied a lot. Read a lot. Helped take care of my little sister. I don’t know. Hey, what do you want to eat? We’re lucky, the line is really short tonight— I was going to make you pick something else if was crowded here.”

The prospect of food left Jungwoo easy to sidetrack— one thing that Taeil could always count on was Jungwoo’s appetite. But later, over an hour later, lying on the couch in a groggy food coma while Taeil scrolled one last time through his text messages to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important, Jungwoo brought it back: “There’s a reason you don’t sing anymore, right?”

Astute observation. Taeil shrugged, keeping his face neutral. “I don’t dislike it. I’m just not in love with it anymore. I still love music, but I’m happier on this side of it. Don’t make it out like I’ve lost my soul or something.” Taeil yawned in diversion, giving Jungwoo a nudge on the shoulder and standing up. “Come on, bedtime. Let’s get a proper amount of sleep tonight, for a change.”

“Okay.” Jungwoo reached his hand into the air and flexed his fingers, a silent plea for Taeil’s help; Taeil rolled his eyes, but he grabbed Jungwoo’s hand anyway, and gave it a yank. Jungwoo stood for a moment with Taeil as support, as though he’d gotten to his feet too fast and needed a moment to recover his senses. Then, defying any logic that Taeil could think of, Jungwoo pulled him into a tight hug that smushed Taeil’s face against his shoulder.

“Ack! What are you doing?” Taeil stiffened for a moment in Jungwoo’s grip, giving him an awkward pat on the back. “Jungwoo…”

“You just seem like you need a hug, that’s all.” Jungwoo smiled, ruffling Taeil’s hair in a way that was only acceptable by virtue of Jungwoo being _himself._

“I don’t know why you think that. I’m in a good mood tonight.”

“I mean in general.” Jungwoo answered like it was obvious, gave Taeil a final pat on the shoulder (consolation? camaraderie? it was hard to tell) and then brushed past him to go wash his face in the bathroom. Taeil wanted to say something (like “what the fuck”, primarily) but bit his tongue instead, saying not a word as he headed for the bedroom.

After all, he could question why Jungwoo would make such an assumption, but he couldn’t convincingly say that Jungwoo was _wrong._

//

Music shows were hell. They would arrive for rehearsals at the crack of dawn and the filming wouldn’t end until the late evening. That gave them just enough time to get home and collapse in their beds so that they could get four hours of sleep before waking up and going back the next day. The absolute worst part was that much of the time was spent simply _waiting,_ and while Jungwoo could nap in short bursts, it was Taeil’s job to stay awake, just in case something were to go wrong. It made for long, miserable days.

Jungwoo had concerns that were bigger than the inhumane work hours, however. Jungwoo had _pleaded_ with Kim Kibum not to make him wear that accursed school uniform again onstage. Kibum scowled and huffed and made it a point to remind Jungwoo that scrapping an outfit so close to promotions would be a _big favor._

“I understand, hyung. I just… I can’t _tell you_ how much I hate that thing. I don’t want to look like a high school student! It’s degrading!”

“Trust me, you want to look like a high school student now _while you still can,”_ Kibum responded flippantly, not turning away from the rack of clothes he’d started scrambling through. “Don’t say I never helped you out, kid.”

Taeil rarely saw Kibum bend when it came to styling choices, so it was remarkable that Jungwoo had made his voice heard for his _debut,_ of all things. He performed his first ever live stage of _Hello_ on Music Bank, dressed in a pair of super-tight, baby blue skinny jeans and an oversized pink sweater. He looked so soft, especially once he’d had his hair styled into loose, messy waves, and his makeup done with accents of glitter under his eyes.

“Moon Taeil, I swear, if you film me right now, I’m going to fire you.”

Jungwoo was only half-awake from the power nap he’d taken, and he was so darn cute that Taeil found it within him to forgive his informal speech. He chuckled, placing the video camera on the makeup table in front of Jungwoo. “I’m not filming you, dummy. The lens cap is on. Also, you can’t fire me.”

“Oh.” Jungwoo pouted nonetheless, lifting his hand to rub his eye and then thinking better of it. “What’d you wake me up for, then? Better be good!”

“I’m supposed to ask you to film some backstage content. It’s going to go on your YouTube channel,” Taeil reported, taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs. The usual backstage chaos seemed less, somehow, like there were perhaps less groups performing. Had SM Entertainment - _gasp -_ actually given Jungwoo a favorable time to debut? Knowing them, it had to be luck. “Oh, and we need a selca for the fan cafe. Do it before your rehearsal, they’ll be cuter that way.”

Jungwoo didn’t even seem to take note of Taeil’s playful dig— he’d taken the lens cap off the camera and flipped open the LCD screen, but otherwise was looking at the device like he’d never used one before. He bit his lip, the first bit of body language that made Taeil think _nervous._ Jungwoo was never nervous! Taeil refused to believe it. “What do you mean? What should I film?” he asked after a moment, eyes wide and lost, like he _really_ had no clue.

“Just...whatever you want! I don’t know! You’ve seen idols doing backstage cams, I know you have,” Taeil responded, though truthfully, he didn’t want to admit that he had no specific _ideas._

“Yeah, of course! I’m a fan myself, how could I not?” Jungwoo admitted with a sudden smile, an air of fake cheer that didn’t fool Taeil for a second. “Yeah, of course, every idol has goofy backstage videos of themselves fooling around with their group members, but— _oh, wait._ I don’t have any of those.” Jungwoo sighed, brows knitting in worry as he fiddled with the camera screen some more. “I’m not funny by myself. I don’t even like my song. And I don’t know how I feel about debuting this way.”

Taeil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jungwoo didn’t much talk about his feelings on his career, not since that first day that he’d expressed doubts in front of Taeyeon. It’d been bound to surface again eventually - these things always did - but backstage at a music show really wasn’t the time. “All right. Listen,” Taeil instructed, setting the camera aside and taking both of Jungwoo’s hands in his own. “First off, I don’t know what the _fuck_ you’re talking about. You make me laugh all the time. Just be yourself, and I guarantee you something good will come out, because I _know_ you, and you’re a living meme.”

“Is that… a compliment? I don’t think I like that, Taeil hyung.”

“Shh. Focus. Secondly,” Taeil went on, “EXO hated MAMA. They had to go on variety shows and pretend to shoot water out of their hands and teleport around the studio! I don’t _blame_ them for hating it. I probably would have been more concerned if they _hadn’t.”_ He smiled encouragingly, continuing, “You’d never guess that from watching them, though.”

“At least they could all look stupid _together.”_

Jungwoo was, in keeping with his stubborn disposition, not taking the bait. Taeil gave his hands an extra tight squeeze, which didn’t seem to reassure him any further, and so he went on plainly: “Right now, it doesn’t matter _how you feel_ about debuting this way. This is the way it’s happening. At this point, when you’ve worked this hard… you can either do a half-assed job and let yourself flop, or you can fight as hard as possible and see what happens. The higher you climb in this industry, the more freedom you get. If you want to get there, you have to get through this first.”

Jungwoo glanced over at the camera, heaving a heavy sigh. “I wish you weren’t so smart about everything all the time,” he complained softly, a little somber as he spun in the styling chair and delicately began to fix his bangs in the mirror. “All right. I’ve got this. I’ve _already_ been in front of cameras by myself, really…” He picked up the camera and fiddled with the view, finding the best angle for himself, and then he hit record.

“It’s so nerve wracking! Seeing myself in the camera with all this makeup on…” Jungwoo laughed, nervously, but perfectly endearingly, too. He was such a natural, the line between acting and reality so blurred with him— but Taeil wanted to believe that this smile was a genuine one. For a moment, taking in Jungwoo’s flawless appearance and bright eyes, Taeil felt like a fan sitting at home, falling in love. “Hi, everyone. This is Kim Jungwoo, and… I don’t know what to say, really! Normally, it’s hard to make me _stop_ talking, but somehow, when the cameras come in…” He sighed, cheeks red under his BB cream, and Taeil felt bad for approximately 0.2 seconds before Jungwoo turned in the spinning chair so that his back was facing Taeil, angling the camera just above himself. Taeil appeared on the screen before he could hide, looking scrawny and plain and sleep-deprived next to Jungwoo— he quickly stood up to move out of frame, but then Jungwoo grabbed his wrist and held tight.

“So instead, let me talk about the person who’s made my debut possible up until now! This is Taeil hyung, my manager. Since I don’t have any members, this is the person that I spend time with the most! _Practically_ my group member, right, hyung?”

What the hell was he supposed to do? The worst part was, if the footage was good, the editors would have no qualms about using it. (He knew because it had happened before, with footage of him helping Wendy maneuver through a backstage area with a huge, unwieldy dress. The fans had dubbed him “princely manager oppa”, which Sooyoung and Yerim proceeded to call him for weeks afterwards. _Ugh.)_ He forced a polite smile and tried once more to free his wrist. “Jungwoo, I have things to do! You don’t need me for this!” He tried to keep his tone bright— and _not swear,_ which was _very_ fucking hard.

“Wait, just for a minute!” Jungwoo pleaded, turning wide brown eyes on Taeil and pouting so convincingly that there was _no way_ Taeil could deny him without looking like a gigantic asshole. He sighed, conceding, but avoiding the camera with his eyes.

_“One minute.”_

“Yay!” Jungwoo grinned at the camera, and it wasn’t the smile he’d been taught for his PR photos— it was his real one, the one that made his nose scrunch up, which unintentionally made Taeil smile, too. “For the fans who don’t know this, everything in the K-pop world is completely impossible without a great manager. Hyung takes good care of me. Like right now, he’s going to tell everyone to stream _Hello_ and buy my digital single, right? Say good things about my music, hyung. _You_ helped pick the song.”

What was this, some kind of back-handed revenge tactic? Taeil forced himself to look at the camera and smile, despite his nerves making his chest feel tight. “It’s a song that matches your image! It’s sweet. It, um… showcases all your best charms, so I’m sure your fans will love it.”

“That’s right!” Jungwoo chimed in brightly. “I don’t expect to win any music show trophies with my debut when there are so many talented sunbaes onstage with me, but _if_ I win, Taeil hyung is gonna come onstage with me and sing my song as a duet! Then I’ll be able to fulfill my destiny of being a maknae!”

“I never agreed to this!” Taeil laughed nervously, trying more insistently to pull his hand out of Jungwoo’s grip.

“Don’t be fooled, everyone, he likes this.”

“Your minute is up. Let me check when your next rehearsal is going to be,” Taeil quickly excused himself and gave his arm a firm tug. Jungwoo held on for half a second, but relented easily, playing up his pout for the camera.

“Hyung is very professional, he worries about his image a lot… I guess that’s what happens when you get old. Isn’t it a good thing that will never happen to me? I plan on staying exactly like this forever, you have my word.”

Halfway out the door, Taeil started to laugh. He couldn’t help it. Not funny, _as if._ Cameras on or off, Jungwoo just had a penchant for lightening the mood, something Taeil could never hope to understand.

The debut stage went without a hitch. It had only been a few weeks, but that painful, fumbling day in the dance practice room seemed like a different lifetime, a different Jungwoo. There was no sign of that tired, exasperated, teary-eyed boy here before him, and styled so brightly, he rightfully stole the show amidst the backup dancers. He sparked, the glitter on his face, the light in his eyes. He _shone._ Taeil patted him on the back when he came offstage, congratulated him and told him that he did well, but he didn’t know how to tell him _that,_ and so he didn’t.

//

The music show grind didn’t seem to bother Jungwoo in the same way that it did Taeil. Sleep deprivation didn’t hit him the same, at least not yet (he was still young), and even in rehearsals, _even with this stupid song,_ Taeil could tell that he was beginning to have fun onstage. Really, in Taeil’s opinion, each performance got better.

It was enough to make him think that maybe Taeyeon had seen something he hadn’t. Or maybe it was a blind stroke of luck. In this industry, the two were almost equally likely. 

By the time promotions ended, Taeil was running on fumes, more exhausted than he could ever remember being with Red Velvet or EXO. Luckily, the very next day after Jungwoo’s final music show stage (no wins, unsurprisingly), they were granted their first true day off since they began working together. No scheduled practice, no performances or filmings or fan events. Taeil nearly cried when Taeyeon called that morning and told him to clear that day and take a rest, and Jungwoo couldn’t keep from laughing as he stood in the living room doorway and eavesdropped. “What are you smiling about? Got transferred back to Red Velvet?”

“No! We have a day off, and I’m going back to bed!” It was 7:30 in the morning still, the sun barely risen, and Taeil couldn’t think about anything more blissful than sinking back into his still-warm bed and letting his eyes close. “Please don’t need anything from me until noon. At _least.”_

Jungwoo grinned too, seeming equally excited about his first proper day off, but his mind was on a completely different track than Taeil’s: “Cool! I’m going to still go for my run, since I’m already awake. Maybe I’ll buy coffee and sit by the river.” Walking by into the kitchen, he reached out to quickly and irritatingly muss Taeil’s hair. “Have a nice rest! I’ll see you when you rise from the dead!”

“You’re going running? It’s raining outside.”

“Not that hard. I won’t melt.”

Jungwoo made Taeil look like such a lump in comparison to himself, and the worst part was, Taeil couldn’t bring himself to care. He made his way back to bed, fumbled his way between the sheets, and slept with complete indulgence until _two in the afternoon._ It felt every bit as good as he’d imagined, and he opened his blurry eyes to see afternoon light casting over the walls, unfamiliar but peaceful. In no hurry to move, he snuggled up to his favorite extra-huge pillow and dozed indefinitely.

The bedroom door inched open silently some time later (Taeil hadn’t the energy to check); Jungwoo’s head poked in, though he relaxed when he saw that Taeil was no longer asleep. “Finally awake? You really do sleep like a rock. I came in here earlier and you were snoring and mumbling to yourself. I was scared to wake you up.”

“Was I saying anything good?” Taeil’s voice was hoarse with sleep, but he forced himself to sit up anyway, or else he knew he’d eventually doze again. 3:44, said the digital clock on Jungwoo’s side of the room. _Holy shit. I slept the day away._

“You said my name. It was cute,” Jungwoo replied softly, and without looking at him, Taeil couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. “Anyway, I was thinking I should post to the fan cafe, since I have a day off. And I was also thinking you should wake up and cook for me. All I’ve had today is cereal, because you weren’t up to make me breakfast.”

“Oh, is that so?” Sleepily, Taeil handed his phone over to Jungwoo, to do as he pleased. If anyone had called or texted him in regards to work, he didn’t have the energy for it then, anyway. “Poor baby, you’re probably wasting away without me. What do you want to eat?”

“I went and bought steaks. You just have to cook them, and I’ll let you eat them with me!”

“How kind of you.” Taeil yawned, covering up his amused little smirk. He ducked into the bathroom quickly to wash his face in an attempt to wake himself up, and then joined Jungwoo out in the kitchen. True to his word, the steaks were waiting for him on the counter, and he’d even started the rice cooker already, filling the kitchen with a warm, pleasant aroma that made Taeil finally remember his completely empty stomach. Jungwoo was sitting at the table while he waited, busy at work on the fan cafe, his thumbs drumming the screen at breakneck pace as he typed out a message. “These are good steaks,” Taeil added in wonder. “You didn’t spend your own money on these, did you?”

“Of course not. Your wallet is on the coffee table. Don’t worry, I used the company card,” Jungwoo answered dismissively, not even sparing him a glance. Taeil’s jaw dropped but before he could scold him, Jungwoo had already moved onto the next thing: “Hyung, my behind-the-scenes video went live yesterday! Did you know that you have fans?”

“Jungwoo, _why_ did you have to film me?”

“‘Princely Manager Oppa is back,’” Jungwoo read aloud, a smirk playing on his lips. “‘His chemistry is really good with our Jungwoo oppa. I’m always caught off-guard by how handsome he is.’”

“Nobody wrote that!” Taeil was not just being modest— he was about _ninety-five_ percent sure that Jungwoo was talking out his ass.

“Cross my heart!” Jungwoo flashed wide eyes and an impressive pout Taeil’s way, and Taeil could only snort, turning his back to focus his attention on what he was doing. The pan was nice and hot, and he tossed each steak in with a satisfying sizzle. “Listen to this one,” Jungwoo went on, “‘I wish I had a boyfriend who looked at me the way manager oppa looks at Jungwoo… he really loves our baby boy so much!’ Hyung, they love us together! It’s really weird but I’m really flattered!”

“Do I really look at you like I love you? That feels… inaccurate.”

“You totally do! Your face warms up so much when you smile, hyung. You should do it more often!” Jungwoo’s tone was still upbeat, and Taeil was expecting to hear yet another ridiculous comment— but instead, he heard his phone vibrate, and a moment later, Jungwoo simply said, “Oops.”

“Oh, did you answer a phone call by mistake? Bring it here. I can cook and talk at the same time.”

“Hyung, are you dating?” It was hard to interpret Jungwoo’s voice— it was calm, eerily so, the kind of calm that just _had_ to hide malice. “Because some girl from the company just texted you asking if you have any plans for your evening off, _and she attached a picture of her boobs.”_

“Ah—” Taeil felt all the blood drain from his face, momentarily stunned. Was it bad that, in the chaos of promotions, he’d nearly forgotten about Sunyoung? To be fair, with the industry they worked in, neither took offense if the other dropped off the map for a little while, but it had been at least two weeks since he’d even texted to ask how she was doing. _But more pressingly…_ “—close it! Don’t look at my text messages, they’re none of your business!”

“I can’t believe you have a girlfriend!” Jungwoo whined, slamming the phone down begrudgingly on the table. “It’s unfair.”

“I can’t believe _you_ are upset that I have a girlfriend,” Taeil responded as evenly as possible, though his voice held a barely-audible quiver. Only after the words left his lips did he think to amend himself: “She’s actually my ex-girlfriend, if that makes you feel any better for some sick reason.”

“Yeah, well, clearly she still likes you well enough. I’m stuck with this stupid ‘no dating’ clause. You should be celibate with me in solidarity!”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s exactly fair, but you signed that contract, not me,” Taeil reminded him, his full attention drawn to Jungwoo for a moment. “Besides, it’s only while you’re a rookie. In a couple years, the company will go lax on you. Just look at Kai and Jennie.”

“Bold of you to assume.”

“I’m not _assuming,_ I know how the industry works.” Taeil reminded himself to flip the steaks; besides, it was easier to hold this conversation without looking at Jungwoo, who was laying his head on the table and pouting. “Seriously, give it like three years, and nobody will care. Plus… I mean, I’m not going to condone you sneaking around when it’s literally my job to keep you in line, but rookies still find ways to get laid! I mean, take Seulgi and Kyungsoo. They started hooking up right after Red Velvet debuted, but they were so sneaky about it that _I_ didn’t even figure it out for like six months. I’m not going to let you put my job in jeopardy, but I’m also not going to look that hard. Just be smart.”

“It just _sucks._ I know you’re right, I agreed to this, but it doesn’t make it _suck_ any less.” Jungwoo folded his arms on the tabletop, hiding his face in them. “I just want a cute boy to make out with!”

Jungwoo’s voice was muffled and Taeil’s mind was still overtired, which was probably why he misheard him so badly. At least, that’s what he told himself as he pulling the two rare steaks off of the griddle to rest. His stomach was now positively aching with hunger, but he knew that waiting five minutes to cut into them would make them even better. Eager for distraction, he let himself laugh. “I’m still half asleep. I seriously thought you were talking about making out with a guy for a second.”

“I was! It’s been _ages,”_ Jungwoo lamented, now sitting up straight and eliminating any chance for further misunderstanding as he continued, “When I first got here, there was this Chinese trainee, Sicheng… he was my first kiss. He spoke maybe ten words of Korean, and I spoke maybe ten words of Mandarin, but we still made it work. _God,_ he was hot. We kept things going for a little while, until he got offered a modeling contract with some company in Beijing. He didn’t think SM was going to give him a chance to debut, anyway…”

Taeil turned sharply, _full_ focus on Jungwoo now. Jungwoo, who already had fansite masters showing up at all of his schedules, taking candid photos and calling him _oppa._ Jungwoo, whose tiny but devoted fanbase was almost entirely teenage girls. Jungwoo, whose charisma and talent were SM Entertainment’s last hope, and now he was telling him, on _top_ of everything else— “Wait, you’re _gay?”_

“What do you mean? Of _course_ I’m gay. I’m _extremely_ gay. I figured everybody already knew.” Jungwoo’s expression was truly incredulous, forehead knit with confusion, and yet Taeil’s complete shock slowly brought a grin of realization to his face. “Wait, seriously, you really didn’t know? I mean— when I started training, my dad told me I had to tone _everything_ down about myself or I’d get laughed out of the company, but I didn’t think I was actually _succeeding._ I can’t believe I’ve acclimated amongst the straights!”

Taeil had never felt so _hot._ He turned back to face the counter, his mind racing, trying to figure out what to say. It wasn’t that he had a problem with gay people, not at all— it was just that Jungwoo was right, he wouldn’t be able to date in three years. Not if he wanted to keep his career. It didn’t affect Taeil himself in the slightest, and yet, his heart still ached for the younger.

“Sorry, hyung. I don’t want you to feel weird about sharing a room or anything, but… I mean, you were bound to find out eventually. I’m not good at keeping my eyes to myself, and living as an idol means being surrounded by hot guys at all times.”

“I— I don’t feel weird.” It wasn’t _exactly_ the right time to cut the steak yet, it would have been better to let it rest for a few minutes more, but for the sake of ending the uncomfortable silence, he fumbled for the knife and started anyway. “Your sexuality is your business, not mine. If you were going to jump me, you probably would have already.” He gave a half-hearted smile, and Jungwoo’s mouth only twitched in return. Good or bad, Taeil couldn’t tell. “I don’t have any problem with gay people, I promise. But this industry… it isn’t kind to _anyone_ who’s different. That’s why short idols get lifts in their shoes. That’s why dark-skinned idols get foundation that’s about ten shades too light.”

It was the same, but different, because there really was no quick, simple fix for this problem. Jungwoo liked guys. The solution? Pretend not to. Erase that side of himself. It seemed almost barbaric to ask of him.

“So basically, what you’re saying is that you’re not gonna help me sneak around?” Jungwoo pouted.

“I wasn’t going to help you sneak around with girls, either!” Taeil replied evenly, carefully balancing two bowls of rice on the side of the platter and bringing everything to the table. The topic of conversation did nothing to kill Jungwoo’s appetite, and he snatched up a bowl and a pair of chopsticks at once, while Taeil went on, “Give it time. Wait until you’re no longer a rookie, and then talk to me. Right now, everything you do is dangerous, but it won’t always be this way.”

“Hmm. If you say so.” Jungwoo answered mildly, and was quickly silenced by the food. Jungwoo had given up on strictly dieting with the stress of promotions upon them - perhaps he’d realized that he couldn’t work from sunrise to midnight every day on nothing but a few hundred calories and pure determination. Taeil was secretly glad to see him eating his fill, though he’d never admit to the little tug of affection in his chest. That feeling of peaceful comfort was short-lived, though; Jungwoo spoke again once he’d swallowed a few mouthfuls: “You’re not going to tell me anything about you and this Sunyoung? Why is she still sending you nudes if you’re broken up?”

“It’s none of your business. Don’t you remember what I told you before?”

“Yes, yes, yes. You’re my manager, I’m not your manager.” Jungwoo sighed, snatching another big bite of steak and stuffing it into his mouth. “I just figured you’d tell me because we’re friends. But it’s fine. I see where I stand.”

Taeil was eating more slowly than Jungwoo, wanting to make sure that the younger ate as much as he wanted. Besides, taking his time to chew meant that Taeil had more time to formulate answers. “It’s just a little bit complicated. And… my brain is still fuzzy from sleeping literally all day.” Jungwoo didn’t seem convinced, his lower lip still poking out; Taeil wasn’t sure why he felt like arguing about it with Jungwoo, really, but he found himself compelled to go on: “I’ll tell you everything some night, but I want you to tell me about Sicheng.”

Jungwoo seemed surprised, eyebrows shooting up and making his forehead wrinkle, but he grinned anyway and gave his head a slow shake. “It’s a deal. A deal that I got the sweet end of. Your story sounds _much_ juicier.”

Maybe on the surface level, Taeil thought to himself, for no reason in particular. But once you took out the sex and looked at the relationship without it, it was more sad than anything. Sunyoung was an imperfect fit, like a Band-Aid covering a bullethole. He just wouldn’t tell Jungwoo all those parts, he reasoned, smiling sadly to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it this far! Expect similarly beefy chapters in the future, as each chapter represents a promotional cycle @_@
> 
> As always, comments and kudos highly appreciated!


	3. 1st EP: Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspirations:
> 
> [ Touch - NCT 127](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6sHIq41sI-w) as though there is anyone reading this fic that does not know this song lmao

_ “Kim Jungwoo will comeback on March 18th at 12 AM, with his first EP, titled  _ Touch. _ This will be his first activity since his debut single  _ Hello _ back in December, and will contain five all-new songs in addition to  _ Hello. _ In the meantime, the first teaser photo was posted on his official Twitter this morning, and fans of his debut will be happy to see that it looks like another cute concept! _

_ What are your thoughts? Let us know in the comments below!” _

_ [+122, -8] Jungwoo oppa in pink!!! I might faint  _ 😍

_ [+90, -22] Wow he really is infectiously cute… I’m a guy and I’m a fan of him, is that strange? _

_ [+11, -29] Guess this is what SM is funneling their money into since they put Red Velvet on hiatus… what a shame. _

_ [+13, -126] Can’t sing, can’t dance, plastic face. All these Produce 101 rejects are exactly the same. _

There wasn’t time for a break, not really. One blissful, schedule-free day, that was all they were allotted— the entertainment world never stopped moving, and they needed to keep up or else be crushed in the cogs.

“How did you feel about your first promotions, Jungwoo?” Taeyeon asked this with her idol-smile, which might have convinced an entertainment industry civilian, but not Taeil. He couldn’t tell whether or not Jungwoo was smart enough to see through the ruse; the boy responded with an idol-smile of his own. Sweet on the surface, but close-lipped, and his eyes didn’t much change.

“It felt like a whirlwind, truthfully. It was a little overwhelming, but at least I know now that I can handle it,” he answered carefully, sitting tall in the conference room chair with his hands folded on the table in front of him. “I just regret that the song didn’t chart higher. I feel like I let everyone down.”

“It was only a digital single,” Taeyeon assured him. “Just to keep you in the public eye while we made preparations for your first physical release. You’ll be releasing an EP in March, and a second one in June. We want to make sure that people can’t forget about you!” Her eyes lost some of their glow as she looked to Taeil next—  _ tired, _ that was it, she looked mindlessly tired. Maybe Jungwoo’s sales numbers really were stressing her out. “Taeil, I’ll send you the title track, as well as information on some possible schedules we could arrange. I want as many interviews and variety appearances as we can get, in order to get the word out to the general public. I think that’s Jungwoo’s strong suit, anyway, his personality.”

Taeil didn’t miss the way that Jungwoo’s jaw tightened, and he wondered if the idol had heard those words the same way he had:  _ Jungwoo’s strong suit is his personality, not his talent. _ But instead, when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “You already picked a title track?”

“I think you’ll like it better than the first one,” Taeyeon replied simply, though she was already shoving the papers back in front of her into their manilla folder. “I didn’t want to stray too much from your image, but this song’s got more room for you to show off your vocal chops! I know you’re going to blow us all away! Unfortunately, I have a meeting with an investor coming up, so I’ll let Taeil explain it to you.”

“Of course.” Jungwoo’s tone was sweet as he got to his feet, bowing his head respectfully to his boss, but Taeil was seasoned enough, he could feel the malice coming off him in waves.

“I’ve arranged a PR trainer to come talk to you this afternoon. He’s going to teach you how to give a great interview!” She stood as well— almost comically smaller than Jungwoo, but she still gave him a familiar pat on the arm on her way by. “Don’t worry about your numbers, okay? Let me do that. Your focus should be on giving the best possible performance to your fans!”

Bullshit, of course. Taeyeon probably had cause to worry. EXO’s last single had been swallowed up by all the big-name comebacks around it, and Jungwoo’s numbers were lower than even the conservative estimate they’d had. In the past, Taeil had always told himself that sales wasn’t his department, so he had no cause to worry about the numbers, but now? With SM Entertainment on the brink of collapsing? His neck was on the line  _ along with  _ Jungwoo’s, and… well, maybe this was a weird thing to think about, but Taeil couldn’t really picture Jungwoo doing anything else, working a shitty retail job or studying in university.

_ For us, this is it. We have to do better. _

Jungwoo was silent as they left the conference room, and didn’t speak a word when Taeil suggested they eat together and listen to the song. At the restaurant across the street from the company building, Taeil treated Jungwoo to  _ jajangmyeon _ and tea, passing one of his Airpods across the table and putting the other one in himself.

“You haven’t heard it yet, either, hyung?”

“Nope. This time, I’m completely innocent.” Taeil smiled, a smile he hoped was reassuring, and hit play.

_ “Na na na na na na na na na…” _

Even more so than  _ Hello _ ,  _ Touch  _ was…  _ incredibly  _ upbeat. Upon first listen, Taeil found himself wanting to hum it, and that was never a good sign. Earworm songs were bad enough when they weren’t your own; he was dreading having to listen to this track, over and over, for the next several weeks. Maybe longer, if people really liked it. Taeil tried to picture this becoming a viral hit, Jungwoo being forced to perform it at award shows five years in the future— ugh.  _ Ugh. _

_ “God.” _ Jungwoo’s elbows were on the tabletop, his head in his hands and his voice heavy with anguish. “Why? What did I do wrong? What is the universe trying to punish me for?”

“Jungwoo— sit up. It’s not  _ that _ bad.” Taeil put on the best brave face he could muster. “It’s young and public-friendly. Anyway, you should have known that you were going to have a cute concept when you debuted. You have the face of a teenager.”

“I know,” Jungwoo huffed, shoulders crumpled as he stabbed his chopsticks into his noodles. “I still don’t like it. Man, I shouldn’t have listened to the producers. Instead of playing up the cute schtick on Produce 101, I should have been ripping my shirt in half every chance I got!”

Taeil couldn’t keep from smiling. This was the type of thing Jungwoo exceeded at, being funny without appearing to try. He was such a natural, and on top of it all, he was cute even with a pout on his face and a whine in his voice. “You’ll get there,” Taeil assured him when he remembered that it was his turn to speak. “Remember what I told you, EXO hated  _ Mama.” _

_ “Mama _ was iconic, though! The concept was dorky, but the song was  _ iconic!” _

“Yeah, well keep in mind, the public has bad taste. That’s exactly why you shouldn’t discount  _ Touch  _ just yet. It could be the thing to make you a star.”

Jungwoo snickered, his eyes sharp with light-hearted contempt. “I’m already a star. It’s just that the rest of you don’t realize it yet.”

Taeil blinked hard, sitting back suddenly as though he’d been scolded. His hands trembled, and he felt his heart start to pound, as though he’d been running.  _ I’m already a star.  _ The memory of pain bloomed in his left cheek, the faint taste of blood.  _ Why do I still have this memory? Why am I thinking about this now? _ He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, willing the thoughts away; Jungwoo, his mouth full, hadn’t seemed to notice a thing, and despite his throat feeling too tight to swallow, Taeil forced himself to take another big bite.

Everything was fine.

//

Taeil had introduced Sunyoung to his father once, back when she was his girlfriend and things were seeming vaguely serious. And he’d taken great relish in using that word,  _ girlfriend.  _ If his father was affected at all, it didn’t show on his face, but Taeil rode the high from that moment for days. Moon Taeil, business major, almost-graduate, girlfriend-haver, all-around successful human being. Then, all at once, he crashed when he realized how stupid it all was, how stupid  _ he _ was for buying into it. Taeil wasn’t any more valid in life because he’d made the acquaintance of a nice girl who didn’t mind sucking him off every now and again.

He thought about it at the most random times, like while he was watching Sunyoung struggle to readjust her stockings and make it look like she hadn’t just wiggled her way back into them. It made him think of all the versions of himself he could have been: the version that went to school for vocal performance instead of music business, the version that married Sunyoung and popped out a couple of maladjusted children.

It was useless to wonder, but he wondered.

“All right, Taeil, what is it?”

“What is what?” Taeil asked as cluelessly as he could, popping a piece of mint gum into his mouth and offering one to Sunyoung. Hopefully, it would do something to cover the smell of Sunyoung’s perfume, which Jungwoo seemed sensitive to.

She snatched a stick, unwrapped it, and tossed it casually into her mouth. “You’re in a bad mood. I can tell by the quality of the dicking I just received.”

Taeil’s eyebrows furrowed.  _ Very  _ troubling news. “Is that… good or bad?”

“I mean, angry sex is always better, but that’s beside the point.” Sunyoung abandoned the task of putting herself back together, wrapping her arms around Taeil’s waist and giving him a surprisingly sweet kiss. “You can talk to me about stuff that’s bothering you, you know.”

“I know.”

Her forehead rested against his, her eyes questioning. His heart twinged for half a second. “You never do,” she protested softly.

“I’m just really tired. And it’s all Jungwoo’s fault,” Taeil explained— not the stuff he’d been thinking about in that moment, but a pressing concern nonetheless. “Last night he stayed up past 3 AM practicing one of his songs in the living room. He wakes up at 6 AM these days! How can someone have such a drive for perfection? I’ll never understand idols.”

“If I had to guess, it’s because he knows he’s the company’s last hope. Cut him some slack, okay?” Sunyoung asked gently, administering one more peck on the lips before she turned away to tie her hair back up. “That’s a lot of weight to put on one pair of shoulders. Even a nice, strong pair of shoulders like those.”

“Oh my  _ god. _ The more I get to know Jungwoo, the weirder it is when you say things like that,” Taeil responded with a shudder. As Sunyoung reached to unlock the studio door, however, it prompted another very interesting thought that had been plaguing him for the past week. “Hey. Just out of curiosity, do you think Jungwoo is gay?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t exactly surprise me. He’s too perfect to be a straight guy.”

Taeil rolled his eyes so hard, he just about saw the front of his brain. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” Sunyoung defended herself immediately. “Emotionally sensitive. Comfortable with his femininity. Innately a good dresser. And  _ dramatic. _ I mean, they’re stereotypes, but they don’t usually steer me wrong.” She grinned as she finally opened the door. “Why, what’s going on? You’re falling in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Why would that be the first place your mind goes?” Taeil folded his arms self consciously as they walked— Jungwoo was just down the hall, practicing with Taemin, so Taeil and Sunyoung walked extra slowly. “I just got a vibe. Wanted to ask your opinion.”

“Don’t think about it too hard. Idols date idols. He’s not going to try anything with you.”

“Gee,  _ thanks. _ Starting to wonder why I hang out with you.” Taeil shot back, smiling unwillingly at the barbed joke. People with good comedic timing could get away with being as mean as they wanted. After saying his goodbyes to Sunyoung, Taeil stepped back into the torture chamber (practice room) where Jungwoo was dancing to that earworm of a song.

_ “Stay, oh, you and me like this, _ _   
_ _ Baby touch me, I can feel you…” _

This was about as saccharine as it got. The song was infuriatingly upbeat, purely positive, and like any good pop song, just ambiguous enough in its lyrics to get the right sort of attention (where Jungwoo was asking to be touched, the song never specified). Taeyeon was right, the vocals seemed more difficult than Jungwoo’s first song, but the higher notes suited his voice. Jungwoo sounded stronger than Taeil remembered in the final recording; was it some kind of editing magic, or had Jonghyun really helped him improve so much in just a few months?

“You’re still missing a beat on the last line of steps. Do you want me to show you again?” Taemin didn’t sound quite as irritated as he could have. A good sign.

“No, hyung, I’ve got it. I just have to…” The music paused for a second, the air in the room still seeming to ring with the energy of it, and Jungwoo squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples for a good long minute before he happened to look up and notice Taeil there. “Oh, hi! How was your ‘meeting’?” The snark was palpable, Taeil wondered if Taemin could feel it too.

“It was very productive, thank you,” Taeil replied pointedly, settling himself on the floor, out of the way. Jungwoo was so sharp, he wanted to keep a healthy distance between them, at least until the after-sex-glow had gone. “Good news from the boss, your backup dancers will be here to practice with you tomorrow. The team decided that Johnny and Jaehyun might be a little too big and scary for this choreography.”

“Look at you! Moving up in the world,” Taemin pointed out, with something like affection in his voice as he swatted Jungwoo in the shoulder. “That means we only have today to get you flawless, though. It’s not enough to do it just once or twice, you need to be able to do this footwork in your sleep!”

“Okay!” Jungwoo shook his head once more to chase out the last dregs of exhaustion, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. Assuming his starting position again, he glanced over Taeil’s way and gave him a tiny wave and a grin. “Hyung, watch me!”

“I’m watching!” Taeil assured him, trying not to smile too widely back. This was close enough to the get-married-have-kids-and-die scenario for his satisfaction, he suddenly thought with an amused snort. Three years of idol training had even given Jungwoo a headstart on all the irreversible psychological damage that would probably come with Taeil raising him.

The music started, and Jungwoo’s feet fell into the memorized steps that he’d probably already danced a hundred times that day. Taemin might have found little faults with the way Jungwoo’s feet moved, but to Taeil’s untrained eye, he was quick, graceful, and deft. He couldn’t imagine singing and dancing like this at the same time, but Jungwoo was even managing  _ that, _ Taeil could hear him beneath the music.

Jungwoo was kind of amazing. Or…  _ something. _ Taeil couldn’t remember the last time he’d nearly forgot to breathe while watching a performance— and it wasn’t even that it was  _ that _ impressively good, just that it was  _ Jungwoo. _

Taemin bailed early, as always. By 9 PM, he was packing up his things, leaving Jungwoo a laundry list of things to improve on his own before the next day. “Don’t think too far ahead, or you’ll miss steps. But don’t think too slowly, or you’ll get lost. Keep your shoulders back, your knees loose… and  _ smile.  _ Y’know, it’s a real treat to watch you dance, when you can stop looking at your feet for two seconds.” He threw a nod and a wave Taeil’s way, along with a warning: “Don’t let this fool stay up all night practicing. I’ll be able to tell.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Taeil smiled thinly. “See you tomorrow, hyung.” It was hard not to feel a little drained, having to stay for longer— he supposed he could have let himself into Sunyoung’s office for a nap, since she was almost certainly gone home by now, but something about being asleep while Jungwoo had to be awake just didn’t seem right to him. Besides, he wasn’t sure he fully trusted Jungwoo not to overexert himself. “Jungwoo, have you eaten yet?”

“No…”

“Come take a five minute break. I bought snacks.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come eat or I’m unplugging the stereo.”

_ “Ugh.” _ Jungwoo didn’t bother to disguise the dirty look that he shot Taeil’s way, but he stomped over anyway and plopped himself down on the floor. He accepted the convenience store lunchbox Taeil passed his way and a bottle of water, though as usual, he couldn’t resist making a dig where he could find one: “Did you pick this up on your way back from meeting your fuck buddy?”

Taeil’s face quickly flushed with embarrassment.  _ Before, actually, _ he would have retorted if he were braver— he’d bought a set for himself and Sunyoung, too, because he knew her tendency to skip meals when she was immersed in work. “Will you stop talking about that? You’re such a pest.”

“No need to be ashamed! At least I know you have good taste. What I  _ saw _ of her was pretty cute.” Jungwoo grinned viciously, clearly thinking he’d stepped on a nerve. (He was right, he  _ was _ destined to be a maknae.) “You never did tell me why you broke up with this girl? Give me the full story while I eat,” he demanded, bringing a clump of cold rice to his mouth.

“There’s not much of a story,” Taeil replied reluctantly, thinking little about stealing a sip of Jungwoo’s water. “We met in college, both got jobs here, and promptly lost our souls to the corporate world. Our schedules never match up— I mean, you’re the only human being on the entire planet with a schedule that matches up with mine, so you know.”

“Maybe we should date, then,” Jungwoo suggested with a provocative smile and an eyebrow wiggle.

“Pass.”

Jungwoo didn’t even let it faze him. “Do you think the two of you would get back together if you ever quit SM? Do you still have feelings for her?”

That was a loaded question, and Taeil clicked his tongue in irritation.  _ Yes, but if we went back, it probably wouldn’t be the same.  _ “I don’t know. Hey, what about you? Your turn to get interrogated. Who’s your type?”

“Had a feeling you were going to ask me that soon,” Jungwoo replied with a self-satisfied little chuckle that made Taeil feel instantly defensive. “I like tall, athletic, handsome guys. Like myself, obviously.” He smiled, biting his lip— and for the first time time that Taeil really noticed, he blushed. “Honestly, if you want to know my type, then look no further than Johnny Suh.”

“Johnny…” Taeil felt a grin tugging at his lips. “The scary one?”

_ “Yes,  _ the scary one.” Jungwoo swooned, letting his eyes roll back in fake ecstasy. “He’s so  _ ridiculously  _ hot, I would let him do anything that he  _ wanted _ to me. He could squeeze me to death with his gigantic biceps and I would die happy.”

_ “Wow,  _ you are shallow.”

“I’m not shallow, I’m honest! It’s not like anything is going to come of it. Let me fantasize!” Jungwoo whined, puckering up his lips in a cute little pout. Taking one final bite of his meal and closing up the remains, he snuck a sly smile in Taeil’s direction, continuing on, “You’re cute for a short guy, hyung. Does that make you feel better?”

Taeil felt his mouth twitch, though whether he was exactly amused, it was hard for even him himself to say. “That’s not what I was getting at, but thanks, I guess. All right, break over— hurry up and fix your dance so I can go home and go to sleep.”

Jungwoo didn’t move immediately; his eyes latched onto Taeil’s face, and he said nothing, simply gnawing on his bottom lip for a couple of seconds. “I can’t believe what a baby you are, sometimes,” he said at last, hauling himself to his feet again with a grunt of effort. “Why did you make me eat? Now I’m sleepy.”

“You’re sleepy because you only slept for two hours last night! I don’t want to hear it!” Taeil could barely get through his retort; Jungwoo had yawned, which made him yawn, which made Jungwoo yawn again. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll start the music.”

That night, Jungwoo whined and rolled his eyes on his way out of the dance studio, and then minutes later, fell asleep in the van while they were stuck in traffic and snored loud enough to drown out the radio. A nuisance, as usual, even if he was a nuisance with a striking profile against the city lights out the window. Unshowered, exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and he still looked vaguely glamorous and idol-like. That was star power, he supposed.

Taeil wondered if Johnny knew how lucky he was. Probably not. The privileged rarely did.

//

“Here.” Taeil edged between the stylists fussing over Jungwoo, slipping him a typed piece of paper. “These are your interview questions. We took the answers you gave us and cleaned them up, so try and memorize them.”

It was early, just shy of 8 AM, but Taeil couldn’t tell short of the stubborn dark circles under Jungwoo’s eyes. He’d been up for hours already, and he’d been peppy from his first cup of coffee. His eyes were bright, not betraying the three hours of sleep he was running on. “Yes, boss!” He replied with a grin, earning a giggle from the girl working on his hair. He’d just gotten it dyed the day before, a warm reddish-brown that brought out the warmth in his skin.

“You have three interviews today— we’ll eat in the car after the first two. Then you’re meeting with Kim Kibum to try on some outfits for your music video before dance practice,” Taeil added, an apology working its way into his tone as he spoke. The days felt packed, sometimes like there was no room to breathe between schedules. He could only imagine how Jungwoo felt, though to his credit, he kept it together a lot better the second time around.

“This is the interview about my start in music, right?” Jungwoo was struggling to read the answers on the script through the network of arms working at him. Eventually, he had to concede and close his eyes for the makeup artist. “First time onstage and all that?”

“Yeah. These ones are super easy, all the fans are looking for is something cute,” Taeil assured him, settling in a nearby chair to scroll through the new emails that had come through overnight. “If you forget what you’re supposed to say, you can wing it, as long as you don’t say anything too wild.”

“Hey, I know how to give an interview. You made me take a whole  _ class  _ on it, remember? I can handle this.”

Jungwoo certainly looked the part once he got in front of the camera, presenting a little older than he usually did in a simple black turtleneck and skin-tight blue jeans. No one watching would ever know that it was 9 AM, or that he planned on napping in the van as soon as they got out of there. Whatever imperfections one could find on Jungwoo’s stage performance, he was always so perfectly at ease in front of the camera.

“So many idols have star quality from such a young age!” The host was one Taeil didn’t know off the top of his head: a woman perhaps in her late twenties, with long hair in loose waves and a smear of pink lipstick for a mouth. She hadn’t looked at all interested in talking to Jungwoo until the camera turned on, and suddenly she was looking at him like she was fascinated. “How about yourself? When did you decide that you wanted to be a performer?”

“My mom was a musician. She taught me to sing as soon as I could talk! I made up my own dance steps, too, and I pleaded with my parents to let me take a dance class when I was six years old.” Jungwoo’s cheeks went pink, his smile bright but timid, as though embarrassed. “I always knew that I wanted to work in the music industry. There was never anything else. Honestly… if there’s one thing about me that hasn’t changed a bit, it’s that I’m always listening to music. From the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep at night. But I didn’t think about being an idol until I was scouted when I was sixteen.”

“Ah, really?” The host’s eyes were wide in exaggerated interest. “And how did your parents react to the news? Did they support your dream?”

“My father had some reservations,” Jungwoo admitted. “He works for a modeling agency here in Seoul, so he knows that the entertainment industry has its ugly side, and I’m an only child so he’s always been especially protective of me! He didn’t agree with my path until he saw my first training evaluation— I think it gave him confidence in me, when he saw the company execs praise me. On the day that  _ Hello _ was released, he was so over the moon that he cleared his work schedule for the night and took me out to dinner to congratulate me in person!”

That was a lie, as far as Taeil knew. Jungwoo only had access to Taeil’s phone, and Jungwoo had never called home or received a call in all the time they’d lived together. Red Velvet hadn’t seen their families much, but the phone calls had been constant, especially during that first year. Jungwoo, on the other hand… well, it really wasn’t Taeil’s business, anyway. He knew, probably better than most people, that family ties only held you as strongly as you let them.

“And your mother? As a musician, she must be so proud of you!”

A little divergence from the script, just to keep things natural, maybe? Taeil glanced down at the list of questions in his hands, scanning for the next topic of conversation; he didn’t think much at all until Jungwoo’s quiet response came: “My mother passed away when I was eight years old, but I like to think that she’s proud.” Taeil’s heart began to pound as he flipped through the stapled pages. No, this was definitely nothing the company had okayed.

“Stick to the questions that we’ve approved, please,” Taeil interrupted before the interviewer could follow up, earning an icy stare. They’d have to edit him out in a way that wouldn’t be noticed, and at that point, maybe it would be easier for them to edit out the question all together. He could hope, anyway. He kept his eyes on the interview as it continued, ready to catch any further rebellion before it began. At the very least, Jungwoo seemed at ease, shoulders back and gaze forward. Funny, how nervous Jungwoo had been to film a vlog by himself a couple months ago— put in front of the camera and given a little direction, he seemed to sparkle.

“Moving on then,” the host reverted back to her sweet and sympathetic face after giving Taeil one last pointed look and a huff for good measure. “Tell us a little bit about the process of creating your album. What were your thoughts when you first heard  _ Touch? _ Was it love at first listen?”

_ Ugh. _ What a mess. At least she could take a hint, though. The rest of the interview stayed right on script, sometimes word for word. The idol industry was one where a half-smile or an eye shift too quick could bring about an entire revolt of fans— and that was why everything had to be perfect. Scripted, choreographed, controlled. Uncontrolled information was never a good thing.

Afterwards in the car, while Jungwoo tried to adjust the rearview mirror so he could fix his hair and Taeil suppressed the urge to slap him while he was driving, he thought to bring it up: “By the way, you should refuse to answer questions if the company didn’t approve them. I’m guessing PR took the bit about your mom out of your explanation on purpose. The interviewer should have known, too, she had the same notes you did. She was shifty. SM Entertainment might not want to work with that network again.”

“What, do you think people are going to stop being my fan because my mom is dead?” Jungwoo questioned bluntly, doing a half-assed job of readjusting the mirror so Taeil could see again. “I don’t mind. Won’t my stalker-fans find out at some point, anyway? I’m not going to lie and pretend my mom is sitting at home, watching my road to success on the TV. I’ll lie about my dad, but not that.”

_ So he admits it.  _ Taeil would never ask, but of course he was curious. It was hard not to imagine what kind of family Jungwoo came from— and why his father never called him, even when he was an only child. He brought his attention back to the road as he maneuvered through the heavy weekday morning traffic, but once things thinned out again and he had the opportunity to glance over at Jungwoo again, he asked, “Was that all true, about your mom teaching you how to sing? It’s a really cute story…”

“Totally true. My mom was a great musician. She was the one that got me hooked on Lee Hyori and Rain. She had good taste.” Jungwoo didn’t seem to feel any sort of way as he spoke about it, though he  _ did _ fidget, focused on picking little bits of lint and hair off of his shirt. “Sorry. Maybe it’s kind of heavy for a TV interview. I don’t know.”

“I don’t think it’s anything that bad. I’ll call the production team at the studio and remind them to delete that portion of the interview, just to be on the safe side,” Taeil reassured him. He didn’t want to see this discouraged side of Jungwoo, he wanted instinctively to reassure him, especially for a slip-up that he himself should have squashed the moment it occurred. “You did a really good job! The camera seriously loves you. I watched all the footage as they taped it, on the little monitor— you look so natural in front of a camera.”

“Really?” Jungwoo smiled, just slightly, and pulled the neck of his sweater up over his chin, as if wanting to hide his self-conscious smile.

“Totally. That hair color suits you.” God, now it sounded like he was trying to butter Jungwoo up. Trying to explain the reasoning behind his train of thought, he backtracked, filling in the blanks cautiously: “Your mom would be proud. You’re a natural at this. It’s a hard industry, and you were dealt a bad hand here at SM, but you’re persevering.”

“Really… it feels good to hear someone say that. Thank you.” Jungwoo cast him a relieved glance, and a second later, he patted Taeil on the hand. “You’re good at your job too! Thanks for cooking all my food and managing all my stupidity.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s not  _ your  _ stupidity, it’s the stupidity that everyone else has created for you,” Taeil replied evenly. His half-hearted little joke made Jungwoo laugh, which gave Taeil a strange little glow of pride.

“Wow, my fans are right! Princely Manager Oppa sure does love his little Junguwu!” Jungwoo’s voice went high and babyish as he spoke, in a way that never failed to make Taeil’s flesh crawl. Jungwoo’s natural aegyo was, admittedly, very charismatic… but the intentional aegyo voice was something he  _ loathed. _ As he touched Taeil again, this time just above his elbow, Taeil quickly jerked his arm off of the center console.

“All right, now you want something. Just spit it out.”

“Coffee.  _ Americano, _ actually.”

“Nice try. We don’t have time.” Taeil tried his best to sound triumphant, but the truth was, it  _ actually kind of hurt  _ to see the little pout forming on Jungwoo’s face.  _ Am I going soft? Maybe I just need another day off. _ “All right, all right. I’ll see if there’s a Starbucks near the TV studio, and I’ll get you something while you’re in styling.”

“Yay!”  _ This _ was authentic aegyo, Jungwoo’s tiny little clap of celebration, and it hit completely differently. It occurred to Taeil for the first time that if he weren’t Jungwoo’s manager, he might have been his fan, instead.

//

Jungwoo held it together nicely through his comeback preparations—  _ admirably _ well for a rookie, really. It was  _ Taeil _ who was faltering. Four years of management, and he wasn’t just burnt out now, but maybe starting to crack up.

It had started with, of all things,  _ Johnny.  _ Taeil had been mostly joking about Johnny being scary  _ (mostly), _ but the feelings Jungwoo apparently had for him  _ did _ sit at the forefront of Taeil’s brain now whenever they passed each other at the company building. And if that weren’t enough, Johnny kept contact with an ex-trainee named Yuta, who kept contact with  _ another _ ex-trainee named  _ Sicheng, _ and  _ that _ was hard for Taeil to process.

“My comeback is in two weeks, and after that, I’m not going to have time to even  _ think, _ let alone socialize,” Jungwoo had pleaded, biting his lip. “Isn’t it okay if they come over for a couple hours? We’ll behave. No drinking or debauchery, I swear.”

“The company doesn’t allow guests unless you ask first, and there needs to be an approved reason,” Taeil had answered doubtfully. While it was true that random guests were forbidden for both of them, he hadn’t been able to think of a reason  _ why _ that would satisfy Jungwoo. He was an adult, why couldn’t he have a couple friends over?

“It’s not like anyone checks in on us! They just go by your word!” Jungwoo argued predictably, putting his hands on his hips.  _ “Please?  _ I never see Johnny anymore. Honestly— I’m kind of hoping Yuta and Sicheng don’t text back, so maybe he’ll come by himself…” His eyes lit up, suddenly, Taeil could pinpoint the very  _ second _ that Jungwoo outwitted him, giving him an offer he couldn’t refuse: “You go see Sunyoung, how about that? You and I can cover for each other.”

Crack #1: Agreeing to Jungwoo’s stupid plan.

Crack #2: Going to meet Sunyoung at her apartment, where she told him through the intercom that she had the beginnings of a cold, and was he sure he really wanted to come hang out? (“Seriously, I’m just here to get away from Jungwoo. Look, we can even sit on opposite ends of the couch, that should be fine, right?” It sounded stupid coming out of Taeil’s mouth, and he knew it. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d hung out without fucking.)

When he got back to the dorms, just shy of midnight, he was feeling good.  _ Really _ good. Jungwoo had been right, a night off was healing. After this, it would be back to quickies in the recording studio and the occasional nude photo exchange, and Taeil would be back to the soulless grind of promotions. This was— this was that  _ self care _ he was always hearing people talk about, right?

That train of thought only lasted for about twenty-four hours. The next night, when he had the beginnings of a sore throat, he wasn’t quite sure that he’d grasped self care correctly. Maybe  _ self care _ did not extend to making out with someone who was sick. The morning after that, the morning of Jungwoo’s second music video shoot, Taeil woke up with swollen tonsils and sweat-drenched bedsheets and he knew immediately that he’d made a colossal mistake. 

“Hyung, you look like garbage.”

Taeil knew already without needing Jungwoo to tell him. He  _ felt _ like garbage, even after showering and taking some cold medicine with his morning coffee. Jungwoo had been quiet himself that morning, a little jittery with his nerves; he didn’t speak up until they arrived at the set, when Taeil needed an extra moment in the car to muster his energy and stand up.

“I’m older than you. Have some respect.”

“I called you hyung, didn’t I?” (Technically, Taeil supposed he had.) “If you’re sick, aren’t you allowed to call out? I’m the one who has to shoot this music video, not you.”

“I’m not sick enough to miss work. It’s just a cold,” Taeil replied hollowly, trying to convince himself that he actually believed what he was saying. “I’ll admit, I feel shitty. But I’m really going to be fine.”

“You can barely stand up out of the van. You’re not  _ fine,” _ Jungwoo argued softly— but stubborn as Jungwoo was, even he wasn’t silly enough to draw out a long argument in the early morning of a video shoot. It would be a long enough day as it was. “All right, just give me your things to carry.  _ Carefully. _ I’m worried I’ll get sick if I touch you, you’re all sweaty.”

God, Taeil hadn’t even thought of that. If Jungwoo got sick, the comeback would be completely fucked. Jungwoo couldn’t sing with his throat swollen half-shut. He’d already been conscious enough to put on a mask, but Jungwoo was right, it was best that Taeil not touch  _ anything. _

The set was as hellish as ever. Another box MV, a needlessly sweet pink-and-white color pallette, and perhaps a dozen backup dancers, many of whom had to be in high school or younger. When Jungwoo made it into his dressing room, the first thing Taeil noticed was the outfit hanging on the mirror: a baby-pink sweater with an adorable white ascot at the neck, simple white slacks, and a beret.  _ Great, he’s going to hate it. _

Still, Jungwoo sat without complaint for his makeup— and when he noticed Taeil’s eyes on him, Jungwoo seemed to know exactly what his manager was thinking: “You get a free exemption from shenanigans today, since you’re dying.” (The poor stylist, trying to position herself as far away from Taeil as possible while still being able to do Jungwoo’s eyeliner, was nearly enough to make Taeil laugh, despite truly feeling like the lymph nodes in his neck might explode if he strained himself too hard.)

The shoot was more complicated than Jungwoo’s first in just about every way: the dance was harder, there were more dancers in every scene, more angles that the picky director seemed to need, more re-shoots needed thanks to the stupid  _ fucking  _ hat that wouldn’t stop slipping out of place and mussing his hair. That was all independent of Taeil’s health, which really seemed to be throwing him for a loop: Taeil didn’t think of it until he heard the director snap,  _ “Cut!  _ What the hell are you staring at? I already told you, quit looking off-camera.”

Taeil blinked, eyes feeling heavy and out of focus; when he looked up, trying not to make his inattention obvious, Jungwoo was looking directly at him from the middle of the set, biting his lower lip and threatening to ruin his makeup. “Sorry,” he said quickly, bowing his head as he adjusted his beret once more. “Nothing, sorry. Let’s start over.” He glanced over to Taeil once again, eyes round with worry, and Taeil tried to smile— but the truth was, he couldn’t even gauge how Jungwoo was performing so far. His mind was moving at half-speed, like everything was underwater, and everytime he tried to focus in his attention on the job at hand, he was overwhelmed by the heat and commotion of the room.

_ “Fucking idiots—” _

_ This director sucks. I wonder if Taeyeon got him on a budget. _ Taeil thought, with a bitter, half-aware mirth. The pain in his left shoulder registered a second later, but he  _ really _ snapped back into himself when he heard Jungwoo snap back, “Don’t call my manager an idiot! He’s sick!”

_ What—? _ Taeil blinked, grabbing for his aching shoulder and nearly causing the staff member who had caught him to drop him again. He was unsteady on his feet, which was probably what had caused him to fall against one of the cameras in the first place, but the embarrassment outweighed any sort of pain he’d caused himself. _ Especially _ as Jungwoo put an arm around his shoulder and carefully took on his weight, pressing the back of his cool hand against Taeil's forehead.

_ I don’t think I’ve ever fucked up this blatantly before. _ Taeil was mentally kicking himself, hoping that he didn’t break anything, though he’d most certainly ruined the take. His mind was moving too slowly to think much about it, or even to protest as Jungwoo apologized to the director on his behalf. Taeil felt a little push on the back of his shoulders, and he followed along to Jungwoo’s dressing room on unsteady legs, now shaky with nerves on top of everything else.

“Told you you were too sick to be here today. But no one listens to idols, because we’re all just devastatingly beautiful morons, right?”

“I don’t think you’re a moron.” Taeil latched on to what was easiest to respond to. No way was he going to admit that Jungwoo was right, that he should have called for back-up.  _ Another manager would have been fine for one day. I guess the director was right about me being an idiot. _

“Then maybe listen to me for once?” Jungwoo pushed down on Taeil’s shoulders to make him sit, and Taeil blindly obeyed— only realizing a moment later that they’d made it back to the dressing room, and that Jungwoo had placed him on the uncomfortable little sofa in the corner where he’d sat to watch Jungwoo in styling earlier. “I’ll call President-nim. Where’s your phone?”

Taeil blindly patted his pocket. Then his other pocket. Fuck. He frowned, trying to get to his feet, but Jungwoo held him firmly where he sat. “It’s in the car. I can get it—”

“It doesn’t matter that much. I’ll ask someone else to get it.  _ Listen—” _ When Taeil tried to stand again, albeit weakly, Jungwoo gave him a gentle but non-negotiable push backwards, forcing him to lay down. “I need to get back and finish shooting before the director blows a fuse. Stay here—  _ right here. _ I’ll be fine without you for one shoot.”

“But it’s only your second shoot!”

“It’s okay. I’m going to be fine. I’ll be my own manager for a little bit, okay?” Jungwoo smiled, and though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was somehow reassuring in its own way. Jungwoo really was stronger than Taeil— no, stronger than  _ any  _ of them gave him credit for. “I’ll see if I can track down some medicine for you, and your phone. See if you can take a nap!”

Miserable, it was a  _ miserable  _ feeling. But Taeil couldn’t argue, not convincingly. Jungwoo was stubborn under normal circumstances, Taeil knew he wouldn’t budge here. “Send someone for me if you need me,” he murmured, and even talking felt like an effort too great to be worthwhile. “And tell the director that I’m sorry, please…”

“Don’t worry about the director. He’s just going to have to get over it on his own.” Jungwoo’s voice was astoundingly light with amusement, and as he straightened up to return to the set, he passed his hand tenderly over Taeil’s hair— the way one might reassure a child after a nightmare. Even after Jungwoo left, closing the dressing room door behind him, Taeil could feel that touch for a long time, and his fever-addled brain couldn’t help but wonder what it had meant.

Taeil wasn’t sure that he’d be able to sleep in a strange and noisy place, especially knowing that he was supposed to be working. But to his surprise, he was exhausted enough to doze off just seconds after closing his eyes, and as it always happened during fevers, his dreams were wild. At one point, he was back in his childhood home, in his bedroom— the muted blue walls, the desk messy with textbooks, his electric keyboard set up by the window with sheet music all ready to go.  _ The days before my dad broke it in half, then. But that was way back— I was seventeen when that happened. _ He’d stopped to run his fingers over the smooth, cold keys, but then Jungwoo had yelled at him from the doorway that he needed help with his bags, and Taeil finally turned and noticed the pile of boxes and luggage sitting on his hastily made bed.

You need help? Taeil had asked for clarification. The details were fuzzy.

Uh, yeah. I can’t move all my stuff up these stairs all on my own.

But  _ why? _

I live here now, Jungwoo replied as though it were obvious. Wherever you go, I go.

Taeil closed his eyes, feeling the certain onset of a headache— but then a few seconds later he was floating through time and space, and he could only half remember what he’d been thinking about to begin with.

Despite drifting in and out of sleep, the next  _ real _ memory he had was of a hand rubbing his back, in a way that reminded him, in his susceptible state, of his mother and how she’d always woken him up for school when he was little.  _ “Rise and shine!” _ He could almost hear her voice, in fact he nearly responded without thinking, before Jungwoo spoke quietly to someone Taeil couldn’t see: “He’s still pretty warm, but I think loosening his collar helped. We’ll be okay! I have my driver’s license, I’ll make sure he gets home. Thank you for checking in on us!”

_ “Ugh.” _ Taeil groaned, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “How long have I been out? The shoot isn’t over, is it? Taeyeon is going to kill me.”

“We’re taking a quick break before the final shots. Figured I’d ask if you wanted to come and watch.” He touched Taeil’s cheek gently, making his stomach twist with nostalgia. It took a second for it to dawn on him that this meant he wasn’t wearing a mask, but Jungwoo didn’t seem concerned. “We’ll just keep you far away from all the filming equipment.” Sitting up was hard, Taeil’s head was still swimming, and he didn’t realize how absolutely parched he was until Jungwoo placed a bottle of water in his hand. “You look a lot better! Just hold out a little longer. We’ll stop and get food later, and then you’ll feel like a whole new person!”

Taeil was quiet— not just because his throat ached and his head spun, either. The truth was, he was still half-stuck in his dream. It was a curious sensation, like watching the rest of the world proceed around you through a glass wall. He sat down on set, watching Jungwoo pull sweet faces for the camera and pose for teaser photos; his mind, though, for just a few hours longer, lingered in the version of his bedroom that he hadn’t seen since he was seventeen, helping Jungwoo unload boxes into the closet and hoping none of the skeletons would pop out. He half expected his father to come storming up the stairs bitching, but with Jungwoo, everything was quiet.

Which was ironic, considering how  _ goddamn loud _ he could be. “We did it! Hyung, the hardest part is over!” Once the director finally wrapped up the shooting, Jungwoo hurried over to him, though he slowed down at the last minute: “I was gonna hug you, but maybe I shouldn’t.”

“I’m worried that you’ll get sick anyway. I mean, hell, your toothbrush sits in the same cup right next to mine,” Taeil mumbled behind the cloth mask he’d put back on. “Thanks for getting my phone. I called the company, they’re sending someone to drive us home.”

“No fair! I can drive!” Jungwoo pouted all at once, eyes glimmering dangerously as he harnessed all the aegyo he was capable of. Luckily, Taeil was too tired to be swayed.

“Sorry, but it’s the company’s car, and  _ my  _ name on the insurance. Not a chance I’m taking that risk.” Taeil smiled softly, handing Jungwoo his phone. “But we can still get food. Order a pizza and I’ll make our chauffeur stop and pick it up for us. My treat— we’ll call it thanks for taking care of me all day.”

Now, Jungwoo’s eyes came alight in a slightly  _ different _ way.  _ Gentle, _ that was the only word Taeil could think of for it, and the expression turned his insides unwillingly to mush. “I would have taken care of you anyway,” Jungwoo said softly, turning away almost shyly and running his fingers through his hair. It was uncharacteristic; something about the shift made Taeil feel vaguely uneasy. “You know that. Also I hope you know that I’m ordering an extra-large pizza, and that I’ll probably eat three-quarters of it. I feel wiped out! I need to load up on carbs to replenish myself!”

His guard was back up. This was the first time Taeil had thought about it this way, but Jungwoo’s humor was a guard, a guard against— what, exactly? “Holy shit. My fever is coming back. Let’s go outside and get some air,” Taeil suggested before he could think about it too hard, shaking his head. Jungwoo murmured his assent, seeming to feel much the same way, and he slipped his arm around Taeil’s shoulders for stability on their way off the set.

//

Perhaps it was the fever during the MV shoot, or the general sense of apathy that had settled over his life that winter— it was hard for Taeil to remember many specific details leading up to Jungwoo’s comeback. Jungwoo continued to have dance practice every day, still went for runs in the mornings, forced Taeil to drill him on English during the awkward times between schedules, and split up his “free time” between recording content for Vlives and working on his songwriting. He worked tirelessly, and even when he was tired, he insisted that he wasn’t, like a toddler reluctant to nap. He was exhausting to watch, and Taeil feared the day that he would burn out, but in the meantime, it was hard not to admire him for what he was able to accomplish.

Jungwoo was beginning to look like a celebrity to him. That was stupid, because Jungwoo  _ was _ a celebrity, but— things were becoming different. On and off, Jungwoo sparkled differently. Sometimes Taeil caught a glimpse of something: something pure and natural, but powerful.

“He has a lot of star power,” was how he explained it to Taeyeon, but it sounded flat that way.  _ He’s impossible not to love.  _ That was more accurate, but it sounded a hell of a lot stranger.

“Mm.” Taeyeon seemed unmoved, tapping her nails passively on her desk. Of course he would never say anything, but his eyes were drawn to it. Why did she seem so nervous?  _ She  _ was the one who had asked him to come to her office after meeting with the rest of Jungwoo’s staff to confirm the details of his first promotions. His album would be dropping in two days, and Jungwoo still seemed ready to sprint through promotions, energy endless. “Jungwoo’s interview with Star TV came out this morning. It drummed up a lot of talk about his comeback, but not exactly in the way we wanted.” Taeil’s stomach sank, and he lowered his gaze— he had a feeling he knew what this was about. “Taeil, do you know who Jungwoo’s mother was?”

“I mean… he told me that she was a musician. Nothing more than that.” He felt his brows furrow. “There have to be other idols with dead parents, right? How is that scandalous? If anything, doesn’t it give him a huge sympathetic edge?”

“Taeil…” Taeyeon sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, as though he’d just said something incredibly stupid. “It’s not that simple. Not all idols have mothers like  _ Kim Jieun.” _

Taeil stiffened. That was a name he knew. “Wait, Kim Jieun… the  _ idol? _ The one who…”

_ “Exactly.” _ Taeyeon sighed, running her fingers through her hair with a flustered sort of air. “People have already figured it out, of course. Fans aren’t stupid. The resemblance between them is obvious when you see their faces side-by-side, and all the dates line up too obviously to keep from being a coincidence. She had that shotgun wedding with her manager in 1997, had her baby in 1998, and never released the name or sex. Her death was eight years later, almost exactly. February 21st, 2006… Jungwoo would have been eight years and two days old.”

“Shit.” That was all Taeil could think to say. Yeah, a rational person would say that this changes nothing about Jungwoo, but fans - and anti-fans - were not always rational people.

“People are questioning his mental health. Questioning whether Kim Jieun’s condition is hereditary.” Taeyeon smiled grimly, not much of a smile at all. “And the poor woman has anti-fans still, nearly fifteen years after her death. People are just sadistic. Questioning how much she could have loved her son, to commit suicide so close to his birthday. I’m worried about his image, but I’m also worried about  _ him. _ You should keep him off the internet for a little while, until people stop talking about it. I’m waiting to hear from our legal advisors about whether or not we have a case against the people dragging his family—  _ ugh,  _ it’s going to be a headache either way, though. Tell him that this is why we stick to a script!”

Of course, it was going to be a headache for the company. Things that cost money often were. “I’ll tell him,” he agreed quietly, bowing his head deeply and hoping she didn’t notice his momentary distaste. “We’ll work hard through promotions. I apologize for being so careless this time around, President-nim.”

“You’ve been working hard already. So has he. Take care of yourselves, too.” Taeyeon offered a gentler smile, but it was still fragile, an afterthought.

Surely, Taeyeon had to realize how impossible her request was.  _ Take care of yourselves?  _ During the week leading up to promotions? Never. He smiled anyway, sure that he looked just as dead inside, and made his way out of her office with his heart pumping double-time. Jungwoo was with Kibum, making final outfit alterations for his upcoming stages, so Taeil knew that he had a few moments to spare. Pulling out his phone, he opened the web browser and typed quickly,  _ Kim Jieun. _

He knew the name, and certainly he had heard some of her songs before, but he had been so young when she’d been in the spotlight that he had no face to call to mind. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but her resemblance to Jungwoo (or rather, Jungwoo’s resemblance to her) really was eerie. The long black hair, framing her face in soft waves, was the only difference at first glance; everything else was strikingly similar, from the shape of her eyes, to her full lips, to the natural golden hue of her skin. In a picture where she smiled towards the camera, it was even more obvious. The dimples around her mouth were a perfect match.

_ “Kim Jieun (born June 23rd, 1975) was a South Korean pop idol signed to PRO Entertainment. Debuting in 1993 with the song  _ Move Your Body,  _ Kim was an instant success and was especially popular with teenage girls for her fun and daring fashion choices. After releasing only three albums, she unexpectedly announced her pregnancy in 1997, along with the news that her manager was the father, and that they had been married in secret just days before. This led to the termination of her contract at the end of the year and her departure from the public eye. She died on February 21st, 2006 after overdosing on prescription medication at home. While her death was ruled a suicide, those close to her have raised the possibility that her overdose was accidental.” _

That was all Taeil needed. Taeyeon had mentioned the speculation of anti-fans, but Taeil wasn’t sure he could bring himself to dig into comments like those. He made sure to close the page out before heading to the elevator.

“...people forget about things so quickly. I mean, antis don’t, but the general public, definitely. Especially if the company never addresses the rumor. At that point, it’s just stupid fans speculating,” Kibum’s voice was audible from the moment Taeil stepped into his workroom. He was experimenting with Jungwoo’s makeup— so far, it looked like something more natural, sunkissed rather than the pasty BB cream that they usually resorted to.

“But it’s not just stupid fans speculating, that’s the thing,” Jungwoo argued softly, expression undetectable. “It’s the truth.”

“Well, in any case, it’s a pretty incredible truth! Don’t let anyone make you feel bothered or ashamed. You know, lots of people in the industry call Kim Jieun one of the greats of the 90’s.”

_ She died two days after Jungwoo’s eighth birthday. _ Taeyeon’s voice rang in Taeil’s head, and the thought gave him a stomachache. Jungwoo’s face was carefully neutral, without even the slightest twitch to indicate how he felt one way or another.  _ Does it hurt? Or is it just a fact of life at this point?  _ Maybe it had been like his own father’s passing, Taeil thought warily. He hadn’t been able to make himself cry at the funeral, and inexplicably, that had made him feel like shit.

“Not even gonna say hi to me? Was the sex really good enough to leave you speechless?”

Jungwoo’s taunt snapped Taeil back to the present all at once, the color rising in his face as soon as the words processed in his brain. “I was meeting with Taeyeon in her office! Quit asking about my sex life, or you’ll have all the company staff thinking you’re a pervert!”

Kibum burst into laughter without a second’s delay, having to pull back the makeup brush to avoid smudging Jungwoo’s eyebrows. “Listen, stylists know  _ everything  _ already. For some reason, people feel safe telling us their secrets? Like which managers are having steamy office affairs, and which idols are daydreaming about getting their ass plowed by the hot American trainee. No need to keep secrets from me, Taeil! How  _ was _ the sex?”

_ “I was in a meeting with Taeyeon in her office.” _

_ “I never said anything about wanting him to fuck me!” _

Taeil and Jungwoo both spoke out at the same time, nearly covering each other up— but Jungwoo’s complaint  _ did  _ settle into his head a moment later, and surprisingly,  _ this _ was what made Taeil blush. Hearing about Jungwoo and Sicheng in the past, that was one thing; Taeil didn’t even know what Sicheng looked like. But thinking about Johnny, tall and handsome and imposing, thinking about all the dance practices where he’d watched Jungwoo pine after him and not even know it? It was… well, he didn’t know how to describe the feeling. It made his chest feel unpleasantly tight.

It was almost, sort of, a  _ little bit _ like being jealous.

“Anyway,” Jungwoo went on, catching Taeil’s gaze in the mirror, with the barest of blushes on his cheeks, “I’m guessing you heard that they released the full interview this morning. How screwed am I? And how much trouble did  _ you _ get in?”

Taeil bit his tongue, thinking over his reply. Taeyeon had told him to scold Jungwoo, but— really, what good would that do when Jungwoo already knew he’d messed up? He was paying for it enough, watching his family’s dirty laundry get aired out on the internet; why should Taeil make him pay a second time? “Hm? Nothing really happened,” Taeil lied casually, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t respond to any comments or messages. The company is trying to decide whether or not to sue the malicious commenters for damage, that’s all.”

Jungwoo heaved a sigh, one that seemed way too big for someone so tender-hearted. Taeil felt it like a punch to the gut. “I feel like such an idiot. I should have known that people would make the connection, but— I didn’t want to lie about my mom. That would have felt  _ horrible.” _ His voice was starting to strangle out, and when he suddenly turned away from Kibum so that he could press his palms against his eyes, Taeil felt a stab of sympathy.

“Jungwoo, don’t cry! No no no, I need to take  _ pictures _ of this makeup…” Kibum’s focus might have seemed laser-focused on work alone, but the way he dotingly dabbed Jungwoo’s eyes with a handkerchief and then wrapped an arm consolingly around his shoulders said otherwise.

Taeil, unsure what else to do, reached for Jungwoo’s hand and took it in his own. It was surprisingly small, surprisingly soft, but it didn’t hesitate in squeezing Taeil’s fingers for a moment’s comfort. “If this is anybody’s fault, it’s mine,” Taeil spoke up quietly, squeezing back in solidarity. “I should have caught the question. I made you look bad, Jungwoo, and I’m sorry. You’re not an idiot, and— you’re right, lying wouldn’t have done much good. I think this is a thing that people were bound to find out no matter what matters we took, and it might be something that we need to endure. Trolls will be trolls, but  _ you _ know what your mother and your family mean to you. Try not to pay them any attention.”

“I just want to do everything perfectly,” Jungwoo whispered. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Taeil’s throat felt tight, and he couldn’t answer for a few seconds. He felt like if he opened his mouth, he’d start crying and it would all be over. When was the last time Taeil had cried, anyway? Didn’t matter— it wasn’t going to happen here. “You’re doing fine,” he managed at last, and he really, truly hoped that Jungwoo knew he meant it.

“Jungwoo, you are a  _ star, _ do you hear me?” Kibum spoke up louder than either of them, with all the conviction that Taeil wished he’d had. “People are reacting this way because they’ve just realized that you’re  _ K-pop royalty, _ and they don’t know how to take it. If this shithole company were smart, they’d lean into it and use it as a marketing ploy, in my opinion. Oh my god, your  _ eyeliner…  _ Sorry, I’m gonna need a makeup wipe…”

Jungwoo’s eyes caught Taeil’s in the mirror, and he sniffled, eyes faintly pink. He even  _ cried _ beautifully. “The buzz will die down,” Taeil assured him quietly, forcing a smile that seemed convincing enough, because Jungwoo smiled, too. “Focus on your performance and leave everything else to me. I’ll do better. I’ll do  _ so _ much better.”

Jungwoo scoffed at this, seeming mostly recovered as he rejected the idea of Taeil’s fault— but Taeil wasn’t exaggerating. Honestly, Jungwoo made him want to give 110% to his job, for the first time in a very long time.

//

Red hair, pink lips, dressed almost entirely in white— Taeil didn’t often have an opinion where styling was concerned, but this time, Kibum had gotten it right. Jungwoo was twenty-two years old (Taeil had to remind himself of that fact just now) but he looked as fresh-faced as an incoming high schooler. His makeup made his skin look impeccable, eyes large and impossibly round, and when he playfully pouted at the stylist  _ nuna  _ who scolded him for picking at the blemishes on his chin enough to leave scars, the flutter in his chest really threw Taeil for a loop.

While Jungwoo got ready for his debut stage, Taeil had a tickle in his stomach, both nervous and nostalgic. He could remember feeling it only once before, and that was when he’d gone on his first date with Sunyoung— he’d been no older than Jungwoo was now, but he could still conjure the very distinct memory. She’d looked so beautiful, stepping out of her apartment in her sweet little red dress, smiling shyly and hiding at first behind her hair, and that was when he’d felt it. A  _ tickle. _

“I’m so nervous. Hyung, I don’t think I slept at  _ all _ last night,” Jungwoo admitted, laughing half-heartedly. “If I fall off the stage, don’t let the fangirls rip me limb from limb, okay?”

“You killed it at rehearsal this morning. You’re going to do just fine.”

_ “Killed it.  _ Oh my god, you’re so cute when you try to sound young.” The  _ snark—  _ Taeil’s jaw dropped, and he had half a mind to remind Jungwoo that his age alone was deserving of respect, but then the idol laughed at his own joke and nearly caused the stylist to poke his eye out with the makeup brush. “Sorry. I’m fucking  _ delirious.  _ How do I look, anyway? Aside from ‘hot mess who hasn’t slept in two days’?”

_ You look— beautiful. _ The thought was certainly there, Taeil’s brain was  _ screaming _ it, but as much as Jungwoo would have gotten a kick out of hearing it, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “You look just fine. Relax and breathe. Would some caffeine help?”

“A Red Bull would actually be  _ fantastic,  _ if you could,” Jungwoo answered gratefully. “If I’m lucky, my heart will explode and take me out painlessly before I have to go out there! But if not, at least the caffeine will perk me up.”

Taeil rolled his eyes, biting his lips together to keep from smiling too widely. “I’m not entertaining your death wishes, Jungwoo. You die, I’m out of a job.” And with this, he was off in search of the nearest vending machine— taking the opportunity to hopefully let the insistent nagging _ tickle _ inside of him go away. The makeup, the glamor, the “idol fantasy”... it could be a powerful, scary piece of magic.


	4. 2nd EP: Highway To Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspirations:  
> [Highway To Heaven - NCT 127](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eekOcpx_iQ)  
> [Take The Dive - Kim Jonghyun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIp0dQ8W2D8)  
> [ Very Very Very - IOI](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fw-js-G_t6k) (I want jungwoo dancing this in a dress and heels i want it BAD)

_“Baby you should know, I won’t let you go,_ _  
_ _I’ll show you the world if you say so.”_

_The scene is dark: nothing but the headlights from a car, driving down a pitch-black road that’s nearly impossible to see. The music eases in: dreamy synths, a soft bass, a soft harmony blended into the space behind Jungwoo’s pure, clear tenor._

_The sun begins to rise over the sleek foreign car, now parked on the side of the road. Inch by inch, the new light saturates everything, including Jungwoo’s languid body sprawled across the hood, arms spread and face serene, shirt half unbuttoned and lips parted invitingly._

_Across South Korea, thousands of fangirls collectively scream at their computer screens._

//

Taeil had never seen Taeyeon the way that he saw her that morning, with visible dark circles and a frown line etched firmly between her brows. It was the last week of promotions for _Touch,_ and they were set to meet and discuss Jungwoo’s next comeback concept, but she’d done something unorthodox, asking Taeil and Jungwoo to come in before the marketing and styling teams did. Taeil expected some kind of scolding, but seeing Taeyeon falling apart at the seams made him think that maybe it was even more serious than that.

“Thanks for coming,” she stated, managing a mechanical smile that left her eyes flat. “I just wanted to check in with you guys, on honest terms— the numbers for your first EP were quite a bit lower than we were hoping. At this point, we’ve lost a lot of money, but we don’t have anything else to fall back on. I want to try one more time, Jungwoo.”

Taeil winced, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Jungwoo. The idol had to have been crestfallen. To miss out on X1 by just a few hundred votes— to have a lackluster debut with a song that he hated— and now, once again, another round of disappointing news. _One more time, only one more time, and if we don’t get it right, this could be the end._

“I want to know what the two of you think, frankly,” Taeyeon clasped her hands in front of her, betraying her nerves. “Obviously, your necks are on the line just as much as mine is— and everything my marketing team wanted has been a total flop. So what do the two of _you_ think we should try?”

Taeil finally dared a glance at Jungwoo. His eyes were wide and round, shoulders tensely squared. He was doing an admirable job of keeping cool in the face of his own devastation, but when Taeyeon trailed off into silence, he only looked to Taeil for an answer, no suggestion of his own.

“Moon Taeil, I _know_ you know this industry,” Taeyeon spoke up again, low and even. “What do you think?”

Why was it all falling to _him_ all of a sudden, anyway? Taeil had to shrug his jacket off, suddenly feeling too warm in that cramped, windowless little office. “I… well, do you want me to be honest?” Taeyeon’s deadpan expression gave him courage, and he went on quickly, before he could lose it: “On _Produce,_ people loved Jungwoo for acting sweet and doing aegyo, and so you gave him two completely saccharine songs right off the bat. For all of his middle-school-age fans, that’s probably great, but I think we should come from a different angle this time and see if we can draw the older fans back in. Show that Jungwoo has more charms than what everyone’s seen already.”

“So, what? Maybe a hip-hop concept?” Taeyeon mused, humming quietly. She didn’t seem totally put-off by the idea, though Taeil couldn’t help but notice the sweat popping up on Jungwoo’s forehead.

“Please don’t make me rap. I don’t think that will go over well.”

Yeah, Taeil was inclined to agree. Jungwoo still had a baby-faced softness to him that wouldn’t allow for _too much_ bullshittery— they had to be reasonable still. “How about more of a ‘boyfriend’ concept?” Taeil suggested. “A cool, sexy song. Something that goes with body rolls. I don’t think there are many artists promoting with concepts like that right now. With any luck, it’ll make him stand out from the crowd.”

Almost at once, Jungwoo nodded. Taeil didn’t think about it until it had left his mouth, but Jungwoo had been looking for an out from his cute concepts, and this was the perfect opportunity to prove what he could do. _Well, his only opportunity, really. But we’re going to take it._ “We could use some of the songs I’ve written, maybe?” Jungwoo suddenly suggested. “I won’t even ask you to pay me royalties, if that helps—”

“One thing at a time, all right?” Taeyeon actually managed to crack a smile as she cut him off, a tired-looking but genuine smile. “Hold tight, I have a couple demos in mind, okay? I’ll let you listen to them and pick what you think is best, Jungwoo.”

And so when the team came together to make a decision on Jungwoo’s new direction, for the first time, Jungwoo was actually _in the middle of_ the decision and giving his input. Clearly he was taking the responsibility very seriously. He didn’t crack a smile when he heard the first demo (which was much too low for his voice) or the second (which was _sexy_ in a way Taeil hadn’t anticipated, and even made Jungwoo blush). Then the third demo started, a familiar minimalist opening and a single male voice which caught Taeil off-guard.

_“If your heart is callin’, callin’, I’ll be there…”_

The song flowed effortlessly, the melody feeling natural and instinctive rather than meticulously planned. Synthesizer notes added interest but never distracted from the vocal line at the center of the piece. And then the chorus came; behind the singer, a harmony swelled and brought a satisfying fullness to the track. _“We’ll take the highway to heaven; whenever, wherever, I need you.”_ It felt so sure of itself, so anthemic, declaring without uncertainty: _When we’re together, it’s heaven._

Taeil had forgotten all about _Highway to Heaven,_ and how much he had liked it from the first time that he heard it. In fact, he was just lost in the strangeness of the memory when Jungwoo spoke up over the end of the chorus: “I like this song. This is the one I want.”

“This is a good one! I think it would make a different sort of title track,” Yoona from Marketing nodded definitively. She seemed a little relieved— or maybe Taeil was projecting. “We have two more samples to show you, and if you want to hear a few _more—”_

“Not necessary. This is the song I want to sing,” Jungwoo decided more firmly this time. _“Highway to Heaven._ I feel good about it. I can dance to this. _And_ I don’t feel like a fourteen year old should be singing this.” He turned his head to gauge Taeil’s reaction, a trace of a smile on his lips, while Taeil kept his eyes pointed straight ahead at Taeyeon and tried to keep his face impassive.

“I think we should do it,” Taeil agreed simply. “Let’s go all or nothing. Either we crash and burn doing the same concept all over again, or we go out with a great song that everybody likes, and we can say we tried. Don’t you agree?”

Taeyeon subtly bit the inside of her cheek as she thought, looking down at the stack of papers in front of her rather than at them. Taeil really had to wonder what was going through her head. _Maybe she thinks we buried ourselves with that interview last month. Maybe she thinks Jungwoo isn’t working hard enough. Shit, how could he work any harder?_

“I agree,” she said at last. “If we go out, then we’ll go out spectacularly. At least we can say that, right? EXO is on their way out now that Jongdae is getting married, Red Velvet is in complete shambles—”

“I think this one is going to do well,” Jungwoo interrupted, a move that made Taeil cringe for a moment, but Taeyeon didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she smiled, and Jungwoo went on more confidently, “I’ll have the song learned by tomorrow, so Taeil hyung, could you see if Jonghyun hyung is available to work with me in the afternoon? We should have the recording done before the dance is ready to learn, so I’ll have as much time as possible with it—”

“One thing at a time, or you’ll get burned out!” Taeil interrupted, holding back impatience. “You’re shooting an interview tomorrow, and you have a dermatologist’s appointment at 1— this is all short notice!”

“Jungwoo is right, though,” Taeyeon reminded them both, and then scanned the room, as if to remind the small circle of staff that she was addressing them all. “This isn’t the time to slow down. This has potential to be one of the last comebacks that SM has as a company. Let’s make everything perfect.”

Taeil closed his eyes, reminding himself to breathe as the full weight of it hit him. He might soon be out of a job, albeit a job that he hated. And he could see himself settling in quite benignly at any entertainment company in the country, shuffling papers around or producing generic and uninspired songs. Where Jungwoo would end up, _that_ was more the question. It seemed inevitable, though, that he would end up somewhere far away from Taeil. They wouldn’t message each other any more than Taeil messaged the EXO members. The thought made his stomach feel sour and tight.

Jungwoo, too, seemed to have a renewed tension after the meeting. That afternoon in the dorm, after shooting an unusually chipper Vlive and an English cram session that made Taeil almost uncomfortable with its rushed intensity, Jungwoo announced his intention to practice and shut the bedroom door.

Taeil didn’t feel at all hungry, but he cooked, because it was nearly dinnertime and because he no longer knew what to do with himself when he had free time, except maybe sleep. Jungwoo had time before he had to promote again, he could afford to splurge on food— something fried sounded mindlessly comforting.

Within an hour, the smell of hot oil and sizzling _mandu_ broke Jungwoo’s concentration and lured him out of practice. The light creak of the floorboards under his feet gave him away, and Taeil glanced up to see him standing in the small kitchen’s doorway, eyes round. “Are you spoiling me to make me feel better about possibly being a flop?”

A light flush spread from Taeil’s cheeks down his neck, and he quickly defended himself: “I’m not spoiling you. Don’t get your hopes up, we didn’t have any meat, so there’s tofu and mushrooms inside.” Of course, he knew things like that were of no consequence for Jungwoo— as long as the portions were big, he was happy with anything Taeil made. “How is practice going? I have to say, this song really suits your voice!”

“Thanks! I think so, too.” Jungwoo made his way to the fridge, the open door remaining between them as he shuffled around for a cold bottle of water. And then, almost too quietly for Taeil to hear, he added, “It suits your voice better than mine, though. Taeil hyung— tell me again why you’re just a manager when your voice is _this_ good? You’re _easily_ better than me. Like, a _hundred times_ better than me.”

Taeil was silent. He knew it was too good to be true, the hope that Jungwoo wouldn’t recognize his voice in the demo, but he was at least optimistic that Jungwoo wouldn’t ask questions. Now, there was no dodging it. He was as good as cornered. Still, he could stall: “I’m not a hundred times better than you. Give yourself some more credit.”

“We don’t have to pretend. We both know I’m not a power vocalist,” Jungwoo corrected dryly. “I can’t hit those big notes the way you can. You could be more than an idol, you could be an actual _singer._ How could you lose your passion for singing when you sound like _that?”_

It was so, _so_ much more complicated than that. Taeil mulled it over in silence as he scooped out the crispy golden _mandu_ with a metal strainer. _No one’s ever told you that you’re wasting your time, have they? No one’s ever told you to stop._ “If I talk about this with you, you have to promise to stop asking about it,” Taeil answered gravely at last, sneaking a look at Jungwoo. Jungwoo hadn’t stopped looking at _him_ for even a second, eyes wide, expression inquisitive. He was cute, and Taeil wished he could feel more resentful, but he mustered up what toxicity he could in order to state, “I don’t like talking about my family. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Okay, deal. Just tell me once, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Man, Jungwoo really was ruthless. Taeil crinkled his nose, but didn’t protest. It would be easy enough to pare the juiciest morsel off of the story and make it completely uninteresting, that would teach Jungwoo to stop asking so many questions. “It’s not really a good story,” he said as a disclaimer, managing a grim little smile. “My dad was an economics professor at Yonsei University. The expectation was always that I’d go into some kind of academic field, be a doctor or a lawyer or something. But I fell in love with music in high school, when one of my friends convinced me to try theater with him.”

Fell in love, that was an understatement. He would never forget how the stage felt, how the audition judges had stared at the puny freshman nobody in shock when he opened his mouth and let his voice free. Up until then, singing had just been fun. He didn’t realize he was _good._

“I started practicing more seriously. Composing a little,” he went on cautiously as he cooked. “My dad didn’t like it. He always told me I was wasting studying time. Made me quit theater and start going to cram school instead. We fought viciously over it when I was in high school, but in the end, he was the one paying for me to go to Yonsei, so I had to appease him and go for music _and_ business.”

“You’re leaving stuff out, though!” Jungwoo whined, attempting to steal one of the steaming hot _mandu_ off the plate but giving up when he singed his fingertips. “When did you record _Highway to Heaven?”_

“I’m not leaving stuff out, you’re interrupting me!” As expected, Taeil couldn’t keep from smiling. Even at his most irritating, Jungwoo was still just irrationally cute. “After college, I wanted to work as a producer and a songwriter, but so much of that requires making connections in the industry. I settled for working as an assistant and then a manager here at SM. But in between managing EXO and Red Velvet, while I had some downtime, I did a few joint songwriting projects with the in-house producers, and they usually asked me to record the demos when they found out that I can carry a tune. Honestly, a lot of songwriters are bad singers.” An amusing little fact of the trade.

“Wait, so you _wrote_ this?” If Jungwoo was impressed before, it was nothing compared to how his face lit up with the news. His eyes positively glimmered, and Taeil felt the oddest pinpricks of pleasure creeping up the back of his neck. It was odd to get this kind of attention from Jungwoo— being treated like a star by the star himself, who appeared to be seeing him in a completely new way.

“I mean, _barely._ I wrote some of the background harmonies,” Taeil admitted. “My biggest contribution was singing the demo. That’s really all.”

“Can you sing for me now?” Jungwoo all but demanded, and it was just as Taeil was standing on his toes to grab two more plates from the cupboard; the abruptness of it jarred him, and the plates nearly slipped out of his grasp. “I want to hear what your voice sounds like raw! You might even be a better singer than Jonghyun-hyung— why aren’t you teaching me this song instead of him, anyway? It’s _your song.”_

“Because I’m your manager, not your vocal coach.”

“Hyung—”

“And because I don’t want to,” Taeil tacked on bluntly at the end, though he softened it with a glance and a half-smile as he grabbed the food and motioned towards the table. “Grab some chopsticks on your way over, will you? I’m absolutely starving.”

“Hmph.” Jungwoo obeyed, joining Taeil at the table with two bottled waters, two pairs of chopsticks, and a jutting lower lip that Taeil ignored effortlessly in favor of the dumplings. Seeing that he wasn’t about to bite, Jungwoo begrudgingly started to eat as well, before speaking up vaguely: “I wish I knew you better.”

No one had ever said that to Taeil before. It seemed like a weird sentence. “You know me better than most people do. There’s just not that much to know about me. I’m a boring person. My job is my life.”

“There are no boring people,” Jungwoo argued, food stuffed in one cheek so he could talk and eat at the same time. “Everyone is the main character in their own story, have you heard that? Everyone has a backstory. Everyone is complicated.”

“That’s not true. I’m simple,” Taeil insisted a little more firmly, trying not to let on that his palms were uncomfortably sweaty. “I want to help create the best music possible, and I want to see people succeed who truly deserve it. That means you.”

There was no more to say on the subject, as far as Taeil was concerned, and so he gently nudged the conversation elsewhere while they ate. But his brain stuck on Jungwoo’s voice from a few seconds before, on the carefully selected words, _everyone is the main character in their own story._ The words tumbled and churned in his head while he cleaned up the kitchen after dinner, while he watched Jungwoo practically sing himself hoarse on the chorus of Highway to Heaven, even while he lay in bed and listened to the traffic outside their window.

Taeil was a shitty, unlikeable protagonist, but his story had a thousand pages, and these pages built him up. Someone could read them, he supposed, and draw a map from the gifted, passionate child to the jaded, miserable adult he’d grown into— but Jungwoo was the first person to ever _offer_ to, and the idea of it stuck with Taeil for a long, long time.

//

 _Highway to Heaven_ would mark six months since Jungwoo’s debut. _Highway to Heaven_ would make or break Jungwoo’s career. Hell, it would make or break _SM Entertainment,_ and it would probably be the difference between Taeil keeping his life on track or moving into a studio apartment and transferring to some soul-crushing office job. (His soul would be crushed either way, but he kind of liked the romanticism of sacrificing himself so that Jungwoo could flourish, or something like that.)

Given that their luck had been shit from the beginning, then, it should have come as no surprise that Jungwoo would fall sick the day before his first recording session. It was a sinus infection and a postnasal drip that was causing Jungwoo’s sore and irritated throat, the doctor had told him that morning as she wrote out the prescription for an antibiotic. Her recommendations were staying hydrated, eating honey to soothe the pain, and getting lots of rest— and of course, the third thing was impossible, but Taeil was going to do his damnedest to keep up with the other two to compensate.

Having Sunyoung in the booth with them on that first day, acting as their recording engineer, was probably something from Taeil’s own _personal_ supply of bad luck, but he tried not to let his mind dwell on it. Jungwoo teasing him was the least of hs concerns when there was so much at stake, even though it _did_ annoy him when Sunyoung introduced herself by name and Jungwoo waggled his eyebrows in Taeil’s direction. 

“Park Sunyoung? I _do believe_ Taeil hyung has mentioned your name before,” Jungwoo piped up cheekily, grinning obviously behind the disposable paper mask he wore to keep his infection to himself. “Nice to meet you. By the way, I hope this isn’t too forward, but you look fabulous in that dress. That color is great on you!”

“Oh—” Sunyoung’s eyebrows shot up, and instantly she lurched forward in a bow, which nearly made Taeil snort with laughter. She might have been five years older, but even so, a fan was a fan. “Thank you!” When Jungwoo entered the booth, slipping his mask down around his neck to take a sip of water, Sunyoung sat back down and gave Taeil a _hard_ nudge.

“What did you tell him about me, you gremlin?”

“I didn’t _tell_ him anything,” Taeil shot back, fighting the urge to nudge her back. Something told him that Jungwoo would be paying extra special attention to the two of them, despite feeling like shit. “He— he saw that you text me a lot, so he guessed that we’re dating.”

“Still worried that he’s gonna try to sweep you off your feet?”

Taeil blushed, glad that Jungwoo was on the other side of the glass. He forgot that he’d even mentioned Jungwoo’s sexuality to Sunyoung, and having it brought up again made him feel a special kind of guilt. “No. I never thought that.”

“Are we starting with _Highway to Heaven?”_ Jungwoo asked from inside the booth, headphones slipped onto his ears. “If I sound like shit, it’s not my fault. My tonsils are all swollen. But I’m going to try!”

“In that case, we’ll start with _Highway to Heaven,_ but if it hurts, tell me and we can end recording early,” Taeil replied on Sunyoung’s behalf. “If you strain your voice, it will only delay the comeback even more.”

“Yes, Mom!” Jungwoo replied with a sigh of resignation, mostly for show, but it had its desired effect on Sunyoung, making her hide her laugh behind her hand.

“Ready, Jungwoo?” She pressed down the mic button as she asked, falling easily into professionalism. Anyone who knew them would have (correctly) assumed that Taeil was the more _together_ of the two, but for some reason, it took him an extra moment to gather himself.

“Ready!”

 _“If your heart is callin’, callin’, I’ll be there,_ _  
_ _Already I’m runnin’, runnin’ to you._   
Girl, what are you waiting for?”

If there was a difference in Jungwoo’s voice, Taeil didn’t hear it on the first runthrough. His tone seemed as bright and pure as ever. Taeil knew his own strength to be his vocal power, not his agility, and it was hard not to admire the ease with which Jungwoo glided between notes and always found the pitch. In fact, Sunyoung simply let him sing through the first chorus, nearly errorless. Before the second verse, she paused the music at last.

“I don’t want you to strain too hard while you’re sick, but can you hit the beginning of the chorus even harder?”

“I can try!” Jungwoo didn’t lose any of the confidence in his face during the next few retakes— until he hit his first bad note, his voice sliding sharp. He had to quickly stop and cough, turning away from the mic to do so, and Taeil frowned.

“Jungwoo, drink some water.”

“I’m okay!” The idol volunteered hoarsely, though the force of his coughing had made tears spring to his eyes. He turned back to the mic and dabbed them away casually with his sleeve, sniffling. “Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t you take a break for a few minutes? I can make you some tea,” Sunyoung offered kindly. “What’s your preference? Green or black? Tea and honey is the best thing for a scratchy throat.”

“You don’t have to do that—” Jungwoo started to protest, but the vibrations of his vocal cords made his eyes water again, and he covered his mouth as he cleared his throat again.

“Nonsense. Ten minutes won’t matter. Besides, you’re the only artist in the building today, it’s not like someone is waiting for this room.” Sunyoung was already getting to her feet, and didn’t happen to see the way that Taeil winced at her words; they were probably supposed to be encouraging, but they made him feel anxious all over again. “There’s a staff lounge down the hall. I’ll be right back!”

When the door closed behind her, Jungwoo slunk out of the booth and plopped himself in the empty chair beside Taeil, looking for all the world like a child who had been called inside from playing with his friends. The look in his eyes would have been cute if it wasn’t so damn _sad._ “This is frustrating. I hate being sick. It makes me feel so worthless.”

“Hey, now, don’t say that,” Taeil assured quietly, placing a reassuring hand on Jungwoo’s back and rubbing a couple of soothing circles. Funny, he touched Jungwoo all the time, but this touch felt weirdly intimate, and he hoped Jungwoo didn’t notice how quickly he pulled back. “Right now we don’t have a strict time table, so it’s fine. Just take care of yourse—” Jungwoo cut him off with a sudden booming sneeze which just about scared Taeil out of his chair, and he rushed to grab some tissues from the table. “Here. _Ugh._ Take care of your gross, germy self.”

“The doctor said I’m not contagious,” Jungwoo shot back indignantly. His retaliation was swift: he snatched Taeil’s upper arm before he could be stopped, yanking the manager forward in his rolling chair, and snuggled himself adamantly into his shoulder. “Take care of me. I’m a baby.”

Taeil should have moved. Should have tugged his arm away. Should have told Jungwoo _not_ to wipe his dripping nose on his shirt. But the moment caught him by such surprise, and before he was hit with all the _should haves,_ he was hit with— _When was the last time someone hugged me?_ An absolutely pitiful thought, but nonetheless, when Jungwoo nuzzled against him, his chest cavity felt like it was full of helium.

He fought to keep his voice dry and unimpressed in his response: “You’re, like, ten centimeters taller than me.”

“Still a baby.” Taeil couldn’t remember ever having Jungwoo’s voice so close before. There was an uncharacteristic rasp to it, but it had the same soothing sweetness— _like honey._ “Mm. Your shoulder is comfy, hyung.”

“Back! You didn’t tell me what you wanted, but green was all we had, _so—”_ Sunyoung’s cheerful announcement was cut short when her heels clicked back into the room, and Taeil’s temperature spiked at her coo of delight. _“Aww!_ What a good manager you are!”

Taeil sighed, putting a hand atop Jungwoo’s head with the intention of pushing it off his shoulder, but first he let it linger for a moment. Jungwoo’s hair was softer than it looked. “If you’re too sick to sit up on your own, I’m gonna take you home!” he threatened after a moment, forcing authority into his voice, and Jungwoo lifted his head almost at once.

“Fine, fine!” Jungwoo sighed, releasing him at last and accepting the paper cup of steaming tea that Sunyoung placed before him— though not without a flirtatious little smile that knocked Taeil for a loop, even knowing it wasn’t meant for him. “Thanks! You’re so sweet!”

“Just be careful not to get Taeil sick. He’s looking kind of flushed, suddenly.” Sunyoung stepped behind him to get back to her chair, letting the back of her hand subtly brush against Taeil’s cheek on the way by. Having it pointed out only made him blush more, and he tried to look unaffected as he pointed out the heat and shrugged off his jacket. The AC was on, and this left him shivering by the time Jungwoo went back into the booth, but he locked his jaw and refused to admit it.

//

The final recording of _Highway to Heaven_ was four days later than their original time schedule— Jungwoo’s illness persisted until they very end of his antibiotic treatment, buying them a couple of the least relaxing days off that Taeil could remember. It was like waiting impatiently for payday while the stack of bills on the kitchen counter got higher and higher. It was all out of Taeil’s control so he knew that worrying was useless, but it rarely left the back of his mind, how dire their situation was.

Jungwoo, on the other hand, spent those days eerily quiet, all his attention focused on a stack of papers that he kept under his bed and wouldn’t let Taeil see. Taeyeon had relented and agreed to let Jungwoo record one of his own songs for consideration on the EP— he’d never seen such pure joy on a person’s face as when she broke the news to him. He was going to pick the perfect song, and if the perfect song wasn’t in his notebook already, he claimed, he would _write_ it, lyrics and melody.

When all was said and done, though, the recovery time was worth it. _Highway to Heaven_ was impeccable in its final recording, sweeping and grand, nothing like he’d ever released before. The days spent at home also gave them _Take The Dive,_ which Jungwoo penned right in front of him from start to finish and Taeyeon pulled a million strings to make a reality. Taeil had been privy to the phone call, to the exorbitant amount of money offered to the producer to put together the music track on such short notice. She was really making good on her promise, he noted with mild surprise, sending Jungwoo out with a bang.

Then he heard the track and understood. It was simple, and yet it was deep. Jungwoo’s voice carried the lyrics exactly as they were meant to be heard, and the simple backing track only lifted them up and made them shine. _“I want to know you, from your surface down. From here to the other side of the ocean.”_

It had been a long time since idol music had really made Taeil _feel._ Yeah, he still listened to Red Velvet’s music from time to time, but _Bad Boy_ didn’t knock him in the chest with lyrics that felt close to him for reasons he couldn’t place. Taeil wasn’t usually swayed by this kind of thing, but there was something undeniably romantic about wanting to know a person, wanting to dive into their essence and breathe them in.

Maybe they’d been wrong all along about Jungwoo’s potential. It certainly wouldn’t be the first of SM’s fuck-ups.

//

“This is the first time _ever_ that I’ve been allowed outside to shoot a music video! They were worried before that I’d terrorize the city, I guess.”

Jungwoo’s smile for the camera was perfectly natural, even though it was nearing 4 PM and they’d been up shooting since shortly after sunrise. With an outdoor music video, lighting was hard to control, and time was limited. They’d been trying hard to get everything shot in one day, but things couldn’t go _completely_ smoothly, that would have been too much to ask. A couple nasty clouds drifted in front of the sun out of nowhere, and the scent of rain now hung in the air like a threat, so the production team had called a break from shooting, giving Jungwoo the perfect little time to shoot a behind-the-scenes video while his makeup was touched up. Kibum had settled on natural makeup for a change, pale skin accentuated with freshly-dyed chocolate brown hair.

“But anyway— I’m going to eat a little and hope the weather clears up soon so we can keep working! Hyung, there’s no rain in the forecast, is there?”

“Jungwoo, I’m the cameraman, you’re not supposed to address me.”

“Ah, it’s not like the fans don’t know you’re there.” Jungwoo chuckled to himself, eyes flickering up to Taeil for a quick second before going back to the lens. “My manager is so shy. It’s cute. You all know that I’m the opposite of shy, so I spend all day talking and talking and _talking,_ and hyung just has to deal with it or else he doesn’t get paid.”

Jungwoo pulled a face, sticking out his tongue, and Taeil couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

Thankfully, the clouds passed without incident, and the team was able to return to shooting— the dance shots were on a rooftop, Jungwoo looking sharp against the pale concrete in his tight-fitting, all-black ensemble. His hair had been dyed a deep brown, nearly black; it made his MV makeup look all the paler, but on-camera, he looked ethereal.

When the afternoon light began to fade, this was when the director decided that they would move down to the driving scenes— which made Taeil nervous to even think about, but it turned out that his fears were unfounded, and Jungwoo performed flawlessly. _“Told you_ you could have let me drive you home when you were sick,” were the first words out of Jungwoo’s mouth when he saw Taeil again, giving him a smug little smile that made Taeil scowl without thinking about it and earned _another_ round of giggles.

The very last thing that they filmed, just as dusk was approaching, was Jungwoo laying across the hood of the car, staring longingly into the camera with bedroom eyes Taeil didn’t know he had. It took him aback, especially seeing Jungwoo adjust his shirt by undoing the top button— which the director immediately noticed and approved. “Perfect, Jungwoo. You look amazing. Let’s get a couple more angles…”

That image didn’t exactly leave Taeil’s head when it ended; while he helped to direct the staff at the end of the shoot, while he made sure all of Jungwoo’s outfits made it back into the van, while he asked Jungwoo what he wanted to eat for dinner, it lingered in the back of his head and took up 50% of his concentration. It was hard to say if Jungwoo noticed, because as he joined Taeil in the van at last, his exhaustion was suddenly obvious. “I don’t care what we eat. Whatever you feel like is okay with me,” he murmured, closing his eyes. Well, then, fast food it was.

“You did a great job today,” Taeil commented as they sat out in the van and unwrapped their burgers. Jungwoo hadn’t even ordered as much food as usual, a sure sign that he wasn’t feeling well. He had seemed in good spirits all day, but then again, he was an idol and that was part of the job description. “Jungwoo, I really have a good feeling about this album. If people don’t jump all over this song— well, then we’ll know for sure that the Korean general public has lost all sense of taste, once and for all.” When Jungwoo only responded with an affirmative little hum, Taeil bit his lip and wondered just what to say. “Were you unhappy with it?” he guessed softly. 

“No! I think it went better than the first two shoots. I’m confident too,” Jungwoo replied softly, managing a smile for Taeil’s benefit. “Don’t worry about me, hyung. Honestly, I’m feeling a little sad today, but I’ll be just fine.”

Taeil’s arm shifted, his hand hovering nervously over Jungwoo’s arm, wondering if it was okay to make contact— a second later, he tentatively touched Jungwoo’s wrist, intending for a gesture of comfort but making the idol jump slightly. “Sorry—” he quickly yanked his hand back, which made Jungwoo laugh, his eyes regaining some of their glimmer.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s me,” Jungwoo assured him at once, finally taking a bite of his burger and falling silent for a few moments while he chewed. Finally, when Taeil was about to turn on the radio to combat the uncomfortable silence, Jungwoo spoke again: “Johnny’s leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not going to train anymore,” Jungwoo revealed sadly, though his lips curled up in a forced sort of smile, the kind one did when they were trying to reassure themselves that they really were happy. “I heard it from Kibum. He’s going back to America to attend university instead. Which, I mean… clearly, SM is going under, and… I don’t even know why I’m sad, because he and I barely talk _anyway,_ it’s just… I don’t know. It’s really, _really_ stupid. I didn’t feel like this when Sicheng left. Sicheng was just convenient. Johnny… I’m seriously crazy about.”

Taeil couldn’t help but feel a little twinge in his chest. Yes, he too knew what it was like to feel inappropriately sad over something really stupid, though he would refrain from phrasing it that way, for Jungwoo’s benefit. “Change is always difficult. There’s no shame in feeling sad about something not going the way you always wanted it to go. You probably thought at one point that you and Johnny would debut together, didn’t you?”

“That would have been nice,” Jungwoo answered faintly. He reached into the takeout bag for a napkin, and for a moment, the only sound was the rustling of paper. Then, Jungwoo’s voice again, just above a whisper: “I don’t know why, when we don’t have a chance in the world, but I wanted to confess to him at some point. And now I _can’t,_ and it feels shitty. Johnny’s probably going to move back to America and forget that I exist, but like— I _can’t_ forget that he exists, because he’s fucking perfect. If I told him and he turned me down, at least I would have stuck in his mind as ‘Jungwoo, that crazy gay who was in love with me’.”

Taeil couldn’t remember ever feeling that way with Sunyoung. Things had been laid back and simple— yeah, his heart had pounded and his adrenaline had jumped on the day that he asked her out, but there hadn’t been a real urgency to it. Maybe that was proof enough that it hadn’t been real love… or maybe, Taeil suspected, Jungwoo felt emotions far more strongly than he did.

“Is he still here in Korea?”

“I don’t know. I just heard about the decision, so maybe,” Jungwoo replied glumly. He had to have been hungry after their long day, but he didn’t seem all that interested in food. And seeing Jungwoo so _out_ of himself, it was hard. Taeil bit his lower lip for a second, considering his options, before somewhat begrudgingly pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“The dorm manager will give you his number, I’m sure. Text him from my address book. Call Johnny. Tell him how you feel before it’s too late.” Taeil met Jungwoo’s bewildered glance as he placed the phone in his lap, smiling shyly. “If you want me to get out of the car and give you some privacy, I will.”

“What? No!” Before Taeil could even move for the door, Jungwoo grabbed onto his sleeve. “Don’t you dare. I want you here for moral support! Ahh… do I seriously want to do this?”

“As long as you trust Johnny not to turn it against you. I mean, not that a gay rumor from one random ex-trainee would ruin you, but…”

“Ha. What more could go wrong in my career? That’s the least of my worries.” Jungwoo answered with a hint of sarcasm, a hint of excitement. His hands were shaking a little as he obtained the number; his food was wrapped back up, long forgotten. In the falling dusk, Taeil found himself studying Jungwoo’s silhouette, the way the tip of his tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration.

 _He’s so cute like this. If Johnny could see his face right now, I bet he couldn’t resist saying yes._ The intrusive thought caught him off-guard, and Taeil discreetly pinched the back of his hand between his fingernails, using the pain as a distraction.

“Hi! Uh… Johnny? This is Jungwoo. I’m sorry if this isn’t a good time—” With a _beep,_ he hit the speakerphone button. “—and also, Taeil hyung is here with me. Just so you know. We’re in the car.”

_“Who is Taeil hyung?”_

“My manager. The really short one.”

_“Ahh. That’s cool. It’s not a bad time— I’m going to go out and get drinks with Taeyong and Jaehyun in a little bit, though.”_

“Oh, really? How much longer are you in Korea for?” Jungwoo’s cheeks looked vaguely darker in the low light, and he was quite clearly stalling. The small talk was nearly excruciating for Taeil to listen to, and he had to turn away and look in the opposite direction to avoid blushing himself. After a minute, though, Jungwoo finally gave in and murmured: “I don’t want to keep you too long, so I’ll tell you why I called. But it’s a little embarrassing.”

Johnny chuckled— poor guy, didn’t know what he was about to be hit with. _“What? Why?”_

“Because—” Jungwoo’s breath caught. Taeil’s did, too, a little bit. “I know that this isn’t meant to be, I know that absolutely nothing can ever come of this, and that’s okay. But I didn’t want to let you leave Korea without telling you that I— I really like you, hyung. You’ve come to mean a lot to me while we were training together, and I really wish we could have debuted together, but… in lieu of all that, I just want to tell you that I really like you, and I hope you do well in America.”

 _“Like me?”_ Johnny repeated, having the _nerve_ to sound incredulous. (Taeil refused to believe that Johnny didn’t receive regular love confessions.) _“Like… love-like? Or…”_

“Yeah!” Jungwoo seemed to catch himself fidgeting, picking at his cuticles, and he slipped his hand under his thigh to stop himself. “I mean, it feels weird to say love, and I don’t want to freak you out. But… yeah.”

 _“Oh.”_ For a moment, there was silence, and Taeil was hit with a very _different_ little twinge of fear: _what if he likes Jungwoo back?_ But then Johnny popped that bubble as soon as it formed: _“I’m really flattered! I’ve never been asked out by a guy before! And… I’m not gay, but I think you’re a great person, Jungwoo. Someday, you’re going to find someone and make them really happy.”_

“I know. I mean, about you being straight, not about— y’know.” Jungwoo sounded a little shakier than he had before, and Taeil found himself praying that the other didn’t break down on the phone. But if Johnny noticed, he was quiet about it. “Sorry. But anyway… thanks for listening, hyung. I’m really busy these days, so I probably won’t get to see you before you go home, but keep in touch if you think of it, okay?”

 _“Definitely. And if you ever come on tour in the states and you end up_ anywhere near _Chicago, you better believe I’m buying VIP tickets and coming to see you. It’s a promise.”_

“I would love that! Stay my fan, okay? Buy all my merchandise so that SM will keep feeding me.”

_“Dude, for sure. I told you I joined your fanclub, right?”_

Taeil closed his eyes, took deep breaths, willed his heart rate to slow down a little bit. He had no stakes in this, he wasn’t sure why he let it put him on edge. But as Jungwoo wrapped up the phone call and said his last goodbyes, it came to mind once again: _I wonder if Johnny knows what a good thing he has. Straight or not, he just got a love confession from somebody amazing. I wonder if he realizes that._ With the beep of the call ending, Taeil realized he’d been holding his breath for a few seconds, and he exhaled quickly, like the world was clicked back into motion. “So, uh… do you feel better?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.” Jungwoo sighed, head falling back against the seat and eyes fluttering closed. “He’s so perfect. Taeil hyung, _why_ is he so _perfect_ and so _straight?!”_

“I can imagine that it’s hard,” Taeil murmured, hoping to sound empathetic through the weird lump in his throat that came from hearing Jungwoo’s voice wavering. “Especially in this industry. I’m really sorry, Jungwoo. I wish there was more that I could do to help.”

Jungwoo didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned over against Taeil’s shoulder— letting him feel the warm dampness of his teary cheeks, the quivering exhale of his breath. And Taeil, not knowing what _else_ to do, slipped a cautious arm around Jungwoo’s shoulders and gave him a tight, reaffirming squeeze.

Despite being awake since dawn, sleep didn’t come easily for either of them that night. Taeil could hear Jungwoo tossing and turning past midnight, and finally, saw him give up completely and slip out to the living room, closing the bedroom door carefully behind him. The light peeked through beneath the door, but there was no music, no sound from the TV.

Taeil, on the other hand, could only lay in the dark and stare at the ceiling, replaying Johnny’s response again and again in his head. _Someday, you’re going to find someone and make them really happy._

It was amazing to think that Johnny’s heart hadn’t fluttered at the word _love,_ because Taeil’s had.

//

The day of Jungwoo’s second comeback didn’t feel all that different from the day of Jungwoo’s first comeback. Awake before dawn, at the Music Bank taping before most _normal_ people were even headed out the door, watching Jungwoo rehearse again and again in front of his miniscule crowd of fans with their placards and albums waving.

Jungwoo was a joy to watch perform, and clearly his hard work had paid off this time around. His choreography was so fluid, his aura graceful and effortless without the need to force a big plastic smile at every camera in turn. Maybe it was just Taeil’s own bias at work, but that first day, the screams seemed louder.

The next day, on Music Core, the crowd seemed wilder than usual— Taeil attributed it to Jungwoo’s outfit, with a shirt that raised and exposed the tiniest flash of his stomach every time he lifted his arms, drawing a chorus of teenage screams. And then the next day was Inkigayo, where so many fans showed up for the taping that some of them had to be turned away. It made Jungwoo feel so bad that he snuck out of Taeil’s sight and went out front to sign their albums without permission. (Taeil had to suppress the urge to kick his ass for that one, but Jungwoo was so _earnest_ in his intentions that he decided to let it slide.)

Checking the numbers, though, that was when it really hit him. In three days, Jungwoo’s EP had broken 30,000 sales, which was more than any of his previous albums had sold in total. And that wasn’t all; the phone call from Taeyeon that he received on Monday morning confirmed that their following had spiked dramatically. _“We need to keep this momentum going. Make Jungwoo do more Vlive broadcasts, keep the fans happy. And you should expect a phonecall later from a_ Happy Together _representative. They want to tape an episode with Jungwoo in a couple weeks. Move things around if you need to.”_

Breaking the news to Jungwoo was the best part. Seeing his eyes light up with disbelief, and then pure wonder— and then Jungwoo pulled Taeil into a crushing hug, squealing and nuzzling against Taeil’s hair. “We did it. Holy shit, we did it. Holy _shit,_ we _actually did it.”_

“Ah— hey, it’s only been three days! Let’s wait before we get too excited! And— ugh, _Jungwoo,_ you’re crushing my ribs! You know, you’re stronger than you think you are!”

“Sorry, but this is _my dream_ that’s coming true! Not to mention, all the comments from people saying how much they like _my song,”_ Jungwoo replied proudly, grinning as he finally released his hold. He held onto Taeil’s shoulders as he pulled back, his eyes damp with tears that he was clearly swallowing back. “I don’t even care that I’m not part of a boy group anymore. _You’re_ my group. And you’re not allowed to go anywhere, so don’t quit on me or find a new job, okay?”

They were still backstage, and though the show had ended, there were plenty of idols and staff gathering belongings, filming bits of backstage content, taking off makeup and stage clothes. They were far from alone, but the moment felt strangely intimate. And though Taeil could never know for sure what his future, or the future of SM Entertainment, could hold, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but agree.

“Now, let go of me. People are going to think we’re weird.”

Jungwoo’s grip went from tight with excitement to _non-existent_ in half a second, and as if suddenly remembering that Taeil was his manager and his senior, he gave him a quick bow of apology. “Sorry, hyung.”

“Nah. You’re fine.” Taeil shrugged off his own blush, reminding himself to chill out. It was Jungwoo, after all. Jungwoo had a charisma that could let him get away with a lot.

//

Of course, fame had its price. With Jungwoo’s name rising once more, it felt like all eyes were on him, and every little movement was analyzed. Not smiling? Asshole. Smiling too much? Fake. Acknowledging a woman? _Clearly_ in love.

Not that an unfounded dating rumor was necessarily the worst thing. Unlike the story about Jungwoo’s mother that was very much _true_ and circulated like wildfire, this one was completely baseless and easy to deny. In fact, if they played it right, it was a possible source of media attention, and who didn’t _thrive_ off of media attention?

It was a funny string of coincidences, really. At the end of the latest M! Countdown episode, after the winner had been announced and the stage had erupted into confetti chaos, Jungwoo had accidentally bumped into Dahyun from Twice— their conversation was inaudible in the clip that Taeil saw, but Jungwoo had quickly noticed his misstep and seemed to excuse himself, bowing. Dahyun had gone from surprised to amused, grinning at him and shaking her head to dismiss his apology… and then, a moment later, she had reached up to pick a shiny piece of stray confetti from Jungwoo’s shoulder. They shared a few words, Dahyun covered her mouth as she laughed at something he said, and that was all.

Then the next morning, Jungwoo had posted a photo to his fan cafe, nothing out of the usual: a bare face, messy hair, a simple black and white striped shirt, and a finger heart. _“Can’t wait to see you today! I’ll work hard as always ♥”_ Nothing revolutionary (though Taeil had to admit, Jungwoo probably looked better bare faced than Taeil would have looked with expertly done makeup, but that was beside the point). Unknown to him, Dahyun had posted a picture to her Instagram just days before: a picture of the charm bracelet on her wrist and her freshly-done acrylic nails, just above the end of her black-and-white striped shirt sleeve. _"Let's meet again today,"_ the caption boldly proclaimed.

The comments started out few, but as people pointed this out, it seemed to gain more traction. _“A rookie idol dating someone like Dahyun? How stupid does he think he is hahaha” “Jungwoo oppa noooo T_T I just fell in love with him through Highway to Heaven, pls don’t tell me he has a girlfriend” “All these people think they’re so sly… how hard is it to keep a relationship to yourself instead of flaunting it in public? Wearing couples’ clothes on Instagram is a dead giveaway…”_

Taeil didn’t think much of it. Jungwoo mostly thought it was humorous, all things considered.

Taeyeon, on the other hand, seemed a little impatient when Taeil and Jungwoo entered her office. Seemed like they were seeing a lot more of her these days, compared to the time of Jungwoo’s lackluster debut. “I’m assuming you’re reading the comments on the fan cafe,” she sighed as she spoke. “This is what happens when people notice you— they notice _every little thing_ that you do, so you have to start being really careful.”

“I understand,” Jungwoo confirmed, lowering his head. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t careful. I didn’t think about it when we were onstage, but I understand now.”

“It’s silly, I agree,” Taeyeon pointed out, nearly reading Taeil’s mind exactly. _Silly,_ that sure was one word for it. “I don’t think a man talking to a woman should be a big deal. But you have to understand, when it comes to these fans— their idol is their world. They’re unreasonable, but that’s part of the game you’re expected to play.” When Jungwoo nodded again, Taeyeon’s lips pressed into an unamused line. “So let me ask you, that we can release an accurate statement to the fans. Is there anything more than acquaintanceship going on between yourself and Kim Dahyun?”

“Nothing at all. I swear, that was the first time we’ve ever met,” Jungwoo replied instantly, unable to keep from smiling slightly despite himself. “You don’t need to worry. She’s _so_ far from being my type—”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Taeyeon interrupted dismissively, leaning back in her chair. “So long as you know to pay attention from now on. You’re officially too famous to make missteps. Enjoy it.” Her wry little smile betrayed her scolding tone for the first time, and Taeil knew at once that she wasn’t as upset as she was playing. “Speaking of which, the week after your ‘goodbye stage’ on M! Countdown, Mnet is organizing a special stage of Produce X 101 alumni, performing Very Very Very by I.O.I. Of course we accepted on your behalf. I think this is an excellent opportunity to remind people of why you’re famous in the first place.”

“That’s amazing!” Taeil commented, though he couldn’t help the clench of doubt in his chest. That wasn’t far away, and Jungwoo wasn’t the fastest when it came to learning choreography. “Are we going to have enough time to get prepared? When do dance practices begin with the group?”

“Dance practice starts the day after Jungwoo’s final performance— it will be tight, but I know you can do it,” Taeyeon encouraged, as though this weren’t a _massive_ bomb to drop on them both. “Taeil, I’ll forward the details of the schedule to you, so you can make proper arrangements. As for today, since you don’t have a music show… I know you were probably hoping for an afternoon off, but I asked Kibum to get his hands on some high heels in your size, and I want you to practice walking and dancing in them. That will make things smoother when—”

“High heels?” Taeil interrupted without thinking, bewildered.

“Yeah, so… it’s going to be a performance in women’s clothing,” Taeyeon admitted, the faintest flush on her cheeks as she was forced to admit this little detail. “But don’t worry about that. Dancing in a dress and a wig is nothing. Dancing in heels is going to be hard. Start there, and then we’ll worry about the rest.”

Taeil glanced over at Jungwoo. His face was unreadable, perfectly passive. “Thank you for this opportunity! I won’t let you down!” Maybe he was as shocked as Taeil, and that was why he wasn’t concerned— but when they stepped out of the office and into the hallway, Jungwoo had to cover his mouth to hide his grin and muffle his squeal of excitement. “I already know this choreo forwards and backwards! I fucking _love_ this song! Honestly, this couldn’t be more perfect!”

Taeil laughed in relief. “I was worried you were going to object to having to wear a dress and heels— _I_ would.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because your masculinity is so fragile.”

Taeil scowled a little. Honestly? Yeah. But he’d never admit it. “We’ll see how fragile _your_ masculinity is when you have to cram yourself into a pair of tights and a skirt,” he retorted, refusing to look at Jungwoo. “Come on. Let’s go check in with Kibum, I guess. I really _was_ looking forward to that afternoon off…”

“Aww! Well…” Stepping into the building elevator - thankfully alone - Jungwoo clapped Taeil confidently on the shoulder. “Since I know the dance already, I’m not anticipating much trouble. Why don’t I go see Kibum by myself, and you take an hour to yourself and visit Sunyoung?” He was already pressing two different buttons on the elevator wall, and Taeil could guess what they both were.

The very suggestion made Taeil heat up under his shirt collar, though he did his best to hide it. “I don’t even know if she’s in today.”

“I think the two of you are cute together. She looks at you like she adores you.” He grinned, cheeks pinkening faintly. “Get yourself a girlfriend who looks at you the way that manager oppa looks at Jungwoo. Am I right?”

“I’m going to pretend I’m not hearing this! And if you keep it up, I’ll leave when Sunyoung is done with me and let you walk yourself home!” Taeil threatened, but not without a somewhat sheepish grin. It was the first time he’d ever really let Jungwoo acknowledge things between himself and Sunyoung, and— _maybe if even Jungwoo sees us as a couple, there’s something to it. I wonder if she really looks at me that way._

“You’re so sensitive!” Jungwoo smirked. When the elevator door opened at Sunyoung’s floor, he gave Taeil a little push towards the hallway. “Have fun. I’ll be with Kibum when you’re done. Hey, you carry condoms in your wallet, don’t you?”

 _“Jungwoo, I swear—”_ Before Taeil could say another word, Jungwoo was giggling and closing the elevator doors on him, and Taeil sighed. He supposed he was seeing Sunyoung, then. And yes, he was pretty sure he had one more condom, gathering dust in his wallet. Since Jungwoo had gotten busy, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex.

Jungwoo’s teasing only clicked with him just as he was about to knock on Sunyoung’s office door: _Get yourself a girlfriend who looks at you the way manager oppa looks at Jungwoo._ In the moment, he’d only thought to cringe, but suddenly, he remembered that this had been an actual fan comment, and that he still had never watched the video clip that started it all. He wasn’t sure _how_ he was looking at Jungwoo that made the fans so crazy, but he wondered if things were still the same, if that energy was still between them.

(Or if it had gotten worse. Yup, definitely needed Sunyoung to help him put this in the back of his mind.)

//

_“Call home some time. Miss you. Mom says hi.”_

The text came that night, after Jungwoo came home and passed out. Promotions had him absolutely beat this time: the sun was barely set, and he was already snoring away in his twin-sized bed, unshowered and wearing his practice clothes. Gross, but sort of cute. Taeil was trying not to look.

Sometimes, Taeil almost forgot that he had a family at all, which sounded horrifying from an outside perspective. But in his mind, it just worked better that way. It was a shame that Nara felt the brunt of that; they’d been close growing up, only four years apart, but now they rarely even texted. The thing was, it was impossible to think about Nara without thinking about _everything,_ and even at twenty-six years old, Taeil didn’t feel _ready._

It made him feel pathetic. It made him feel weak and small and useless, which was exactly the way that his father had made him feel. Even from the other side, it felt like the man was haunting him.

_“Sorry, promotions have been crazy. I’ll call you this week when I get a chance. I love you both.”_

And he did. Or, well, he thought he did. It was all so complicated. At least with work, he knew exactly where he stood and what he was meant to do. With his own family, everything felt off-kilter, like he was a chewed-up puzzle piece who no longer fit in the only space there would ever be for him.

“Do you miss home?” Taeil asked out of nowhere the next night, laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling. Jungwoo sat opposite him on his own mattress, adjusting the strings on his guitar. He hadn’t played much during their first months together, but since Taeyeon seemed finally willing to give him a bit of artistic freedom, it was probably smart to brush up.

“Miss home?” Jungwoo repeated around the guitar pick held between his clenched teeth. “No. You?”

Not even a moment of consideration. Taeil hadn’t ever heard Jungwoo so cold. It caught him so off-guard that he took an extra moment to answer: “No. Not exactly.”

“Why are you thinking about it, then?” Jungwoo questioned. He strummed the guitar, and they both winced in unison. Jungwoo was a decent player, but he could never quite tune the damn thing. “Working through your daddy issues or something?”

Taeil’s head turned sharply, their eyes catching in a moment of prickly silence before he realized that Jungwoo had been joking. _Fuck._ “No,” he exhaled at last, tossing his phone aside and forcing himself to sit up. “Here, give me that thing. I can’t take listening to you struggle anymore.”

“Maybe I like when it sounds this way,” Jungwoo replied sourly, but he obeyed without argument. Taeil was just happy for something to keep his hands and mind busy, if only for a few minutes.

He never did end up calling Nara, but he figured she knew why, and he only hoped that she understood.

//

Watching Jungwoo practice alongside ten other boys had given Taeil flashbacks to his EXO days— but seeing the eleven of them being primped and primed in the dressing room on the day of the show only brought uncanny flashbacks to Red Velvet. Heels, skirts, wigs, lipstick, mascara; the only thing that was missing was the lingering cloud of women’s perfume.

Taeil understood well, at this point, that male idols covering girl group dances was rarely more than a joke. Jungwoo was 180 cm tall, and the last thing he _needed_ was a pair of high heels to make him tower over his manager even more. His face was handsome, but decidedly masculine; and makeup couldn’t cover up an Adam’s apple, could it? Jungwoo was in his glory, spending his days dancing to I.O.I and catching up with friends that he hadn’t spoken to in months, but Taeil couldn’t keep from worrying that Jungwoo would be taken as a joke, too. That was the _point,_ and yet the thought pained him, and he wasn’t sure why.

As it turned out, makeup could cover up a _lot._ In fact, Taeil couldn’t even be bothered to _look_ at Jungwoo’s Adam’s apple, so it was a non-issue; his gaze was drawn to Jungwoo’s eyes, lined with thick lashes, and Jungwoo’s lips, smudged with a berry pink. His long black wig framed his face in perfectly arranged waves, and it was surprisingly natural, the way he flipped it over one shoulder to massage the side of his neck with one hand— he’d strained a muscle somehow while asleep, and despite stretching in the van on the way over, Taeil knew that he was fretting about it.

Still, on his way by, stepping lightly in high heels and trying to keep his blond wig from tangling, Song Yuvin stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Jungwoo’s reflection in the mirror. “Wow— Jungwoo, you look like a doll!”

“I look stupid!”

“Shut up! You do not!”

He didn’t. He looked _beautiful,_ but Taeil would never admit it aloud.

Jungwoo looked terrified when the staff called his group to the wings of the stage, getting them suited up with mic packs, and Taeil was anxious as he watched the monitor in the dressing room— but when the music started and the spotlight came on him, there was no trace of fear in Jungwoo’s eyes. He was channeling the Produce 101 aegyo-persona that had gotten him famous, but he still performed fiercely, hitting every move and every lip-synced lyric like it was his _own_ song. In fact, the one moment that he misstepped - tipping on his heel and rolling his ankle, towards the end of the song - his face didn’t betray him at all, and he stared into the camera with such confidence that it almost seemed purposeful.

Taeil kept out of the way as the boys filed offstage, all stepping more cautiously than usual, some giving up and kicking off their stillettos as soon as they were able. Jungwoo, on the other hand, stuck it out to the very end, and he was still wearing them when he grabbed Taeil by the shoulders with trembling hands and yanked him into an unexpectedly emotional hug. The height difference between them was even more pronounced, with Taeil’s face smushing squarely into Jungwoo’s padded chest. “Oh my God— I fucked up so badly! Now my neck hurts _and_ my ankle hurts and I don’t want people on Twitter to laugh at me!”

“Jungwoo—” It was Taeil’s instinct to resist, but for once, he forced himself not to. “You were— _amazing._ Nobody is going to laugh at you. You were incredible. Please don’t choke me.”

“You’re just saying that!” Jungwoo sobbed, clinging to him tight and sniffling into his hair. Taeil couldn’t keep from chuckling, as mean as it felt.

“Jungwoo, don’t cry! You were seriously great! Here— sit down, we should get those heels off you so you can put your ankle up. There’s no reason to cry. Why are you being so dramatic?”

“Because I want everyone to keep loving me!” Jungwoo was never so emotional, but it must have been the shot of adrenaline that came with his injury, reacting with his normally suppressed self-consciousness. _Poor thing. Must be so stressful._ Taeil smiled to himself as he helped Jungwoo to sit, loosening the straps on his stockinged feet and easing them off of him. Peering up at Jungwoo, the mascara streaming down his cheeks made Taeil’s heart squeeze, and once he pulled another chair forward for Jungwoo to elevate his foot, he turned his attention to dabbing away the idol’s smudgy gray tears.

Jungwoo worked too hard, cared too much, and while it was what the industry demanded— Taeil realized, for the first time, that it hurt him to watch. He liked Jungwoo best when he was smiling, and he liked that smile when it was genuine, when his eyes _sparkled._ Thinking about it made his stomach twist in knots, and later that night, as he watched Jungwoo tense his jaw against the pain and bandage up his bruised ankle, he felt suddenly sick with dread.

The last time he’d felt this way had, of course, been for Sunyoung.

//

_“On the June 28th episode of M! Countdown, the ‘half-year special’, a group of fan-picked Produce X 101 alumni gathered together to perform I.O.I’s ‘Very Very Very’ as a tribute to the group. While their performance turned heads and made fans remember why they loved these talented trainees in the first place, newly-debuted soloist Kim Jungwoo and his longtime manager warmed the hearts of his fans with their candid affection for each other backstage. Jungwoo can be seen breaking down into tears, presumably due to a minor ankle injury suffered onstage, and his manager responds by hugging him and wiping his eyes._

_Jungwoo’s company, SM Entertainment, reports that Jungwoo’s injury is not serious and will not interfere with his schedules. In addition to a performance at Asia Song Festival announced in August, Jungwoo is tentatively slated to release his next album this winter.”_

_[+201, -18] YES why is his manager so cute @_@_

_[+150, -24] This clip broke my heart! Jungwoo found fame all at once, didn’t he? It must be so hard to adjust…_

_[+146, -43] I ship it_ 💖


	5. 3rd EP: View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspirations:
> 
> [View - SHINee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF53cptEE5k)  
> [All Mine - f(x)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0S3knWIdrY) (Jungwoo's lyrics)  
> [Hallelujah - Jonghyun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNqlFPlNErE) (Jungwoo's lyrics)
> 
> Slow but steady progress being made :') In my writing I'm just a couple chapters from the end, but they're BIG chapters and it's slow going. Pls comment if you enjoy because this baby is a labor of LOVE.

_ When asked what we can expect from his upcoming mini-album, slated for a mid-November release, Jungwoo answered: “I’m preparing 5 brand-new tracks, two of which I composed and wrote myself. I get inspiration from everything: from my family, my fans, even friends that I’ve made in the company. But because I’m a perfectionist, it’s exhausting for me to get a song just right, and I can get really stressed— but I have a lot of help within SM Entertainment.” _

_ According to Jungwoo, who are his closest friends in the industry? “My friends from Produce X 101, of course!” he answered at once, “Song Yuvin, Kim Yohan, Han Seungwoo-hyung… but because we’re all so busy, we don’t get to see each other in person often. My closest friend that I see every day is my manager. We have a professional relationship, but he still feels like an older brother, too— and he always buys me food! Once I have my trainee debt paid off, the first thing I’m going to do is treat my manager to a super expensive meal!” _

//

The summer was a blur. Jungwoo performed at summer concerts, university music festivals, even did some busking in Gangnam as an excuse to meet with fans. (Went well for a few rounds— they did have a rather memorable incident on a Friday night where a drunken fan screamed that Jungwoo was hot and flashed her tits. Taeil found the memory a lot funnier in hindsight than in the moment; Jungwoo found it funny both times and every time after.)

On the days in between, practice took up Jungwoo’s days, and songwriting consumed his nights. He was still terribly self-conscious about his songwriting, and he didn’t always want to let Taeil share in the process, but more and more as the summer went on, he would be tempted into asking Taeil’s opinions on certain parts.  _ “Your lips bring magic, a fantasy, a dream.” “The feeling you give me, it’s greater than awe; you make me sing like a prayer, singing hallelujah.” _

“Jungwoo, those are really good! I didn’t know you could write stuff like this— it makes me wish I’d gotten you something better than  _ Hello  _ to debut.” Jungwoo didn’t answer, only giving him a smug little  _ I-told-you-so  _ smile, which Taeil chose to ignore as he pressed, “Who did you write these songs for, anyway?”

“Wouldn’t  _ you  _ like to know.”

“Sicheng or Johnny?”

Jungwoo stuck out his tongue, taking great delight in Taeil’s frustration. “It’s a secret! But actually— both your guesses are wrong.”

_ So maybe he’s in love with someone else, then. _ Taeil wasn’t sure why the thought hit like a punch to the gut, but it did. The younger seemed so genuine all the time, but Taeil knew from experience that Jungwoo was an expert at hiding his feelings when he needed to. He’d probably be suave when it came to crushes. It was probably someone that they saw every day. He tried to picture Jungwoo silently pining after Kibum. Or Jonghyun. Or, god forbid,  _ Taemin. _ A sudden wave of anxiety and nausea washed over him— 

“Hyung, you look like you’re going to cry. Oh my god, that’s so  _ cute!” _

Thinking quickly, Taeil covered his face with both hands and faked the fakest sneeze ever, which probably did little to convince Jungwoo. “No. Just allergies. Not cute.”

“Ahh. Bless you.”

Taeil closed his eyes for a moment. He had to get out of the dorms at least for a few minutes while he could, maybe go for a walk or something. Being around Jungwoo day in and day out was probably going to drive him crazy, no matter how attached he got.

//

It would have been a mistake to take a break right when Jungwoo started to gain traction, but after a long and intense summer, Taeyeon was insistent on giving them the first day of Chuseok off. _ “You both have family in Seoul, why don’t you see them?” _ she asked impatiently over the phone when Taeil questioned her. _ “If you want to stay in the dorms and work, I’m not going to stop you, but let Jungwoo go home. He’s earned it.” _

Good point. And Taeil needed to go home.  _ Really _ needed to go home. Nara had never called him back, but he had the feeling that she was pissed at him, and he couldn’t quite blame her. It had been— wow, almost two years since his father died, and so two years since he’d stepped foot in his childhood home, noxious with bad memories.

His family lived less than an hour away, he just couldn’t be bothered to unpack his emotional baggage and clear out an afternoon for it. This time, there was really no excuse. Time to get it over with.

Taeil opted for a bus home rather than the company car (gave him time to stare out the window and think about absolutely nothing, which was a blessing— he couldn’t remember the last moment of true peace he’d experienced). But all that peace went right out the window as he passed through the front gate and up the narrow walkway. It was a nice house with a sizeable garden, a testament to the salary his father had pulled in as a university professor— though it was clear that his mother and sister had let go of the gardener and the housekeeper sometime after losing his income. Taeil had felt guilty enough before, but now it was crushing, to see the unkempt rose bushes and the front porch in disrepair.  _ I hope they’re doing all right. _

_ “Oppa!” _ He’d only texted Nara when he’d left the dorm, but evidently she’d been watching for him; the door flung open before he could so much as touch the knob, and his little sister nearly knocked him over with the force of her hug.

Taeil was, he had always been told, the spitting image of their mother, short and sturdy, big eyes and full lips. Nara, on the other hand, could never be mistaken for anyone but their father’s daughter: tall and gangly (he doubted he had more than two centimeters on her), with a natural tan and a distinctive crooked smile. Of course, her long hair and makeup did enough to distinguish her from memories of their father, but he still felt an apprehension as he let her pull him through the doorframe. “You’re looking really good! Hey, you’re growing your hair out!” She reached up to tousle his bangs.

“I’m not trying to!” he admitted, pushing his hair back. She had a point, it was past his eyebrows and starting to cover his ears— he should have cut it a few weeks ago, but he’d been so preoccupied with work, doing his own job and overseeing Jungwoo’s, sometimes feeling himself inadvertently stepping over the boundary from manager to personal assistant. “How are you doing? Studying hard?”

“Student teaching, actually. Kindergarten,” Nara explained, taking Taeil’s coat and offering him a pair of house slippers. “I like the school a lot. It’s not far from the kennel, either, so it’s really convenient for my evening shifts.” The neighborhood kennel, Taeil remembered, where Nara had been working part-time to help support the house. He sent money faithfully, and his father had left generous assets behind, but there were still struggles, especially as his mother pushed sixty years old. She couldn’t work forever, and it would fall to them both to take care of her. The reminder made him feel sick with guilt again, his skin prickling, but he forced a smile as he forced himself to respond after a half-second delay:

“That’s great! And just think, this is your last year balancing work and school. Hopefully you find a little more time to relax!”

“Coming from the work-a-holic,” Nara teased, giving him an all-too-familiar pinch on the cheek that caught him off-guard after all these months without it. “I’m in for a world of trouble if the school works me as hard as SM Entertainment works you. It was nice of them to let you be a regular human for one day.”

“It’s a good thing that I’m busy, though! I’m busy because Jungwoo is doing well!” Taeil reminded her as they passed from the foyer to the living room. It was exactly as he remembered, except for the large, framed photograph of his father hanging over the urn of his ashes, against the far wall. Even in the portrait, his father’s eyes made his skin crawl, and he quickly looked down at the floor, squaring up his shoulders as though preparing to be scolded.

_ Stand up straight, you look pathetic. Where have you been? Wasting your time with those K-pop queers? Might as well burn that degree of yours, isn’t it meaningless? _

He felt like he was sixteen years old again. He felt tiny and low again, like a slug, like a worm. The bitterness that filled his throat was abated only when his mother stepped into the living room to greet him. To his relief, she looked as healthy as ever, and privately, he wondered if becoming a widow had actually lessened her stress. There was no more walking around the house like the floor was dotted with thumbtacks, no more high-stakes pressure to please a man who was determined to be miserable, and probably most importantly, no more listening to Taeil and his father’s vicious fights.

He wasn’t expecting a second hug from his mother, and it made him feel oddly emotional. For a second, he let his cheek rest against her shoulder, and in  _ that _ moment, he was no longer sixteen, he was six.

“It’s good to see you again. You never visit anymore! I’m not getting any younger, you know!” She gave him an extra squeeze, and then pulled back to look at him more closely. “You need a haircut. Do you need me to find my scissors and do it for you?”

“Seriously—”

“We’ve been following your new artist. We know you’ve been busy,” his mother interrupted dismissively, smiling. “It seems like you’re doing well for yourself, but you should still take care of yourself. I know how you get when you focus too hard. I’ll send you back with lots to eat, okay? Enough for Jungwoo, too.”

Taeil didn’t argue. He’d heard his mother and father argue enough throughout his childhood— even when he was little, before he understood the scope of it, he’d vowed that he would never make his mother yell and cry the way his father did. “Okay… Thank you. I— I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll try to come home more often. And send money more often.”

“Just visit,” Nara replied impatiently, clapping him on the shoulder. “Or at least call me with juicy stories. My best friend at university is a  _ huge _ Jungwoo fan, and she doesn’t believe that my older brother is his manager. Is he super high-maintenance? I get the sense that he is.”

Taeil couldn’t keep from laughing. He’d almost forgot how much he loved his little sister. “Yeah, he’s pretty needy.”

“Ha. I knew it. Rich asshole type, huh?”

This answer, too, was instantaneous. “Not at all. Jungwoo is just… complicated. Like no one else I’ve ever met, I’ll just say that.” (Taeil couldn’t remember a bigger understatement ever leaving his lips.)

Still, despite his guilt, despite the realization that he  _ did _ miss home, he couldn’t help but feel relief after dinner when he broke the news that he had work the next morning. Staying the night would be impossible, which was perfect because he  _ really _ didn’t want to re-enter his childhood bedroom. His sister pouted the entire time he waited for his cab, and when he gave her an extra-tight hug goodbye, she murmured in his ear half-jokingly, “Don’t wait two more years to come visit again, yeah? I was starting to think SM worked you to death and replaced you with an AI or something.”

Taeil laughed, but he suddenly wished he had the vocabulary to explain. Work was a  _ release,  _ couldn’t she see, a  _ catharsis  _ from the shittiness of being himself. When he was busy, nothing else mattered. If even over-rode pain, sometimes. It was a magical thing.

The dorm was dark when he stepped into the living room, and he sighed. Jungwoo had probably opted to spend the night at home for once— their schedules were late in the morning, so that would be fine if he returned early enough, but it would be strange to have the place to himself in the meantime. He’d gotten used to the whining, the inane questions, the shitty jokes, and the prying into his personal life. How would he sleep without it?

He stuffed the leftovers that his mother had forced on him into the refrigerator, checked his phone messages for the first time all day (deciding to procrastinate answering any of them until the next morning), and grabbed a quick shower. And when he stepped into the bedroom and turned on the light— there was Jungwoo, already curled up in bed, dozing under a pile of blankets. The sudden flood of light surprised him, and he blinked in irritation as he peeked out at Taeil. “You’re home,” he mumbled, groggy.

“Uh… yeah.” Taeil blinked, feeling suddenly self-conscious with nothing but a towel around his waist. He’d never been so painfully aware of how shitty his body was compared to Jungwoo’s, soft and squishy in far too many places, but more than that— he turned the light off with a flash of panic, wondering if his towel had allowed any glimpse of the scars sitting on his hips. “You’re… home too?”

“Yeah.”

“How was… uh, Chuseok?” Taeil was thankful when Jungwoo pulled the blankets back over his head, but he still fumbled for the first hoodie and sweatpants that he could find in his dresser nonetheless.

“Didn’t go. I’ve been sleeping since, like, 4 PM.”

“Oh.” Taeil stalled as he yanked on his clothes. “Why?”

“Because I was tired.”

It was frustrating to get so little from Jungwoo, who sometimes was too forthcoming for his own good. He seemed happy enough to share stories of his mother (her  _ life, _ anyway), but his father was still an enigma to Taeil. He’d once been a K-pop manager (in the days before the word “K-pop”), and though he’d had to resign when he and Jungwoo’s mother had been scandalized, he’d netted himself a respectable position working for a model management agency. That was all Taeil knew about the guy.

But then again… Jungwoo knew even less about Taeil’s family. Jungwoo had only been told the fact that it was  _ none of his business. _ So maybe that was fair.

“I haven’t been home in a long time,” Taeil said at last as he ran a brush through his hair, not bothering with a mirror in the dark. “My father died two years ago, so I went home for the funeral, but before that… I don’t even remember. Guess I’m not that close with my family.”

Jungwoo shifted in his bed, the mattress squeaking underneath him. Taeil couldn’t see him, but he could picture him, sprawled out and trying to peek over at him. “Oh,” he said, so softly that Taeil nearly missed it. A few silent seconds passed, and then Jungwoo continued softly: “I’m really sorry to hear about your father. I didn’t know...”

“It’s okay. I didn’t want you to know.” Taeil lay down, his body feeling heavy and tired. “Uh… my mom sent food for you. I put it in the fridge. She’s a really good cook, so— yeah…”

“Oh. Cool.” Taeil heard Jungwoo moving again, and then his feet hitting the floor, fumbling for his slippers for the trip across the cold tile floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to eat the food you brought me,” Jungwoo answered, as though it were completely obvious. “You weren’t here to cook for me. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“You— you could have ordered food! Or made ramen!” Taeil protested with a little laugh of disbelief, followed by a wave of regret for not leaving Jungwoo any money. The idol hadn’t started making his own earnings yet, and still lived by the company credit card that Taeil took everywhere with him. “Okay… give me a minute. I’ll come reheat it for you.”

“Yay! Thanks, hyung!” Jungwoo still sounded half-asleep, but on his way by Taeil’s bed, his hand passed clumsily, affectionately, over the manager’s hair. The touch was so casual, nothing really out of the norm for Jungwoo, but it gave Taeil the strangest chills.

//

_ “Everyone is lost for words, like you, _ _  
_ _ Beyond the fourth dimension, a miraculous view…” _

_ View  _ had been recorded from another of Taeil’s demos, though he barely remembered it. It had seemed like an unremarkable song, truthfully, and he’d had some doubts when Jungwoo pushed for it. But as soon as Jungwoo got those lyrics in his mouth— maybe Taeil was just biased, but Jungwoo’s light and agile voice transformed the song into something dynamic and beautiful. (It really said something that Jungwoo was up most of the night practicing, and Taeil  _ still _ wasn’t sick of it yet.)

“That was excellent!” Sunyoung called out with a bright smile, cutting out the music after the first verse. “Really, really good, Jungwoo! Can we try another take? You sound a little nervous still. Isn’t it too late in your career to sound nervous in the recording booth?”

“Singing by myself in front of Taeil makes me nervous! Hyung, come in here and show me how it’s done!” Jungwoo gave a little pout, a devilish light dancing in his gaze. Taeil had to roll his eyes.

“Do your job, Jungwoo!”

“I want to  _ learn _ from you!”

“You’re already better than me!” Taeil shot back, smiling a bit to himself. (He wasn’t sure that it was true, but Jungwoo certainly had  _ star power, _ and in Taeil’s opinion, that counted for more than anything in this industry. Plus, he could hold his own in front of fans no matter what they threw at him, and he had a scary ease in the way he flirted with the camera. Taeil could never.)

“All right! Take two, let’s go,” Sunyoung interrupted, rewinding the backing track and releasing the microphone button so she could say privately to Taeil, “He likes your singing. At least he has  _ taste.” _

“Is that what you call it?” Taeil tried to keep his tone neutral, his eyes trained on the idol as he sang the first line once again. “He’s just a suck-up. He’s literally like this  _ all  _ the time.”

“Well, he’s certainly a good actor, then. That’s all I’ll say.” Sunyoung smirked, side-eyeing Taeil in a way that often meant just one thing— and this time was no exception. "Hey, when can I see you again? Like,  _ actually _ see you? I'm tired of quickies in the recording booth. I kinda want to throw you into my bed and tear all your clothes off."

Taeil found himself flushed from the unexpected attention, but the emotion was different. There was no thrill, no grip of excitement, no urgency to make their hypothetical plans a reality. Instead, there was a twist of reluctance in his stomach, and his eyes were pulled instinctively to Jungwoo through the glass. With their attention diverted, he'd sang his way into the chorus:  _ "Such a beautiful view. Such a beautiful view." _ The word  _ beautiful _ really summed him up perfectly, when he wasn't wide-eyed and pouting and putting on an act for the camera.

"Um— maybe once things quiet down. You know comeback prep is our busiest time, so…"

"New Year's? If they give you a day off, will you come spend the night with me?" Sunyoung batted her lashes at him, and he tried to smile like he was just as excited; he was relieved when her attention went back to the job at hand, and her next comment was, "Can't believe how much he's improving."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll let you know." Taeil answered casually, gaze never leaving Jungwoo. Before, he was certain it had been the idol fantasy; it made sense, even though it seemed ridiculous for a manager to become enamored with his own artist. Jungwoo was just too charming, and with his makeup on, his hair styled, and his aegyo cranked up full force, it felt excusable. But now? With Jungwoo’s black hair crammed messily into a hat, no makeup on and stubble on his chin, wearing a tragically oversized t-shirt and sweatpants— Taeil still felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and acknowledging this uncomfortable truth made him feel hot from head to toe. “I—” Instinctively, he fumbled for his phone in his pocket. “Sorry. Getting a call. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

“What, you think he’s gonna run off?”

Taeil didn’t respond. He kept his phone to his ear until he was out of the studio and a safe distance down the hallway, where his legs brought him to a stop. His chest felt tight with uncertainty, and drawing a breath was slightly painful. The worst thing was, not having a soul in the world that he could reliably tell. What would he even say?  _ I think I want the one person I absolutely, under any circumstances, cannot have. I think about him all the time, not just because I have to but because I miss him even when we’re apart. _

It was  _ remarkably _ similar to how Taeil had felt about Sunyoung, before he’d lost his passion. He wasn’t sure what was scarier: thinking about how this feeling had started, or thinking about how this feeling might end.

//

Comebacks meant high stress and no sleep. Phonecalls from interviewers and variety shows wanting to snatch Jungwoo up before his schedule was booked full. Careful management of social media.  _ View _ was going to be big,  _ huge,  _ and every step leading up to it had to be perfectly calculated. Taeil was feeling the pressure— on one hand, he was thankful for the myriad of distractions in his life, which were keeping him sane— but on the other hand, he wanted one night, just  _ one eight hour night, _ of peaceful and uninterrupted sleep.

Jungwoo seemed unaffected, or maybe just delirious with the weight of it all. The more the industry constricted around him, the more Jungwoo seemed to glow. Taeil just couldn’t fathom it.

The  _ View  _ MV shoot started brutally early, once again. Jungwoo had been in the practice room until after midnight the previous night, practicing his choreography until the blisters on his feet bled. Taeil had gotten barely three hours of sleep, and his eyes burned in protest of being awake bright and early, but Jungwoo inhaled a triple americano on the way to the shooting location and entered the building as his usual bright and smiley self. Taeil slammed back two shots of dark and bitter espresso in solidarity. If nothing else, the resulting heartburn would keep him awake.

The music video was more grand than anything that Jungwoo had shot so far, with the highest budget: the scene was a raging party, which felt especially out of place at 8 AM, packed with made-up extras and fake booze. The majority of the scene would place on a crowded dance floor, but the “storyline” had Jungwoo leaving the action with a girl who would lead him upstairs to an empty bedroom, where—

“This feels weird. Is this  _ allowed?” _ Jungwoo questioned when the director described what he was meant to do. Amused or nervous, Taeil really couldn’t tell. Jungwoo was just too good at hiding how he felt.

“The PR team wanted a more ‘adult’ image for this song,” the director replied mildly, giving a shrug. “Nothing explicit, it’ll all just be implied. There will be a kiss, though—  _ if _ the kiss turns out well, of course.”

Jungwoo raised an eyebrow at the implication. “I can kiss.  _ That’s _ not a problem. Who am I kissing, anyway?” There were so many people crowded into the dressing area, male and female; Taeil scanned the field of familiar faces, wondering a bit himself.  _ A girl, obviously. Jungwoo is going to kiss a girl. _ He got the sense that  _ he  _ was more nervous for that fact than Jungwoo was.

“Manager oppa! Long time no see!” A sharp poke to his shoulder from behind made him jump a bit, and he whirled around on his feet— unnecessary, really, because even a year after leaving Red Velvet’s side, he would have known Yeri’s voice anywhere. She’d gotten there before them, and was already finished with her styling: blond hair pulled up in a high ponytail and finished with a flurry of perfect ringlets at the bottom, winged eyeliner flawless and lips stained a bold, berry pink. “You never call us anymore! We miss you treating us to meals!”

“Doesn’t your new manager do that?”

“Nah. Our new manager is a hard-ass.” She scrunched her nose. Even speaking informally and swearing, Yeri was the definition of adorable. Taeil considered himself lucky, he’d spent so much time with her that he was immune to her charms. Your manager is a hard-ass with good reason, he held himself back from telling her. Before his exhausted brain could come up with a kind response, though, Yeri had moved on to poke Jungwoo on the shoulder instead, disturbing him while a stylist worked on straightening his hair. “Jungwoo oppa! Hope you’re ready to get close!”

“No way? I’m not kissing  _ you, _ am I?” Jungwoo’s response, too, was informal and teasing. Taeil hadn’t realized that they even knew each other, but Jungwoo and Yeri talked to each other like old friends. No, like siblings. “Gross! I refuse!”

“Welcome to  _ acting. _ You’re really gonna have to dig deep for this one, huh?” Yeri’s grin mirrored Jungwoo’s in the mirror.  _ Oh. She must know. _ Taeil’s suspicions were all but confirmed when she lowered her voice to a discreet murmur and went on vaguely: “I can pop up on my toes, but I can’t make myself as tall as Johnny oppa.”

“Don’t tease me! I’m the star of this video, and I  _ will _ have you thrown out!”

“Fat chance! I’ll leave you to make yourself all pretty and kissable for me. You’d better not have coffee breath.”

Taeil was still reeling from the strangeness of it all. It was too  _ damn _ early to process something like this, though Jungwoo seemed remarkably unaffected. “Why are you making that face, manager oppa?” he asked with a smirk. “You look like you’re nervous  _ for _ me.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this?” Taeil questioned, choosing to ignore the observation entirely.

“Uh,  _ yeah.  _ I’m a  _ professional. _ Seems more like you’re the one who’s not okay!” Jungwoo smiled brightly,  _ too _ brightly for the early hour. “Do you feel like your little boy is all grown up? Like you’re handing me off at my wedding?”

“You’re  _ not _ my son. How old do you think I  _ am, _ anyway?!” Taeil blinked hard, shaking his head. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t have time to be having this conversation. I need to go get your other outfits from the car.”

“Find me mints! I have coffee breath!”

“No!”

Taeil knew that his job was to stay by Jungwoo and tend to his needs, but it was hard when he felt this way— this way that he couldn’t even name. He wasn’t jealous, he wouldn’t  _ allow _ himself to be jealous, so he would just call it  _ stressed  _ and  _ frustrated _ and  _ over-fucking-tired. _ He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so volatile and emotionally sensitive.  _ Why do I want to cry? This is stupid. _ The best solution was to focus on the details that he could, and tune out everything else. Ignorance was bliss, he told himself.

The dance sequences came first, and Jungwoo was almost over-prepared. The director had to encourage him to loosen up his movements and lessen the intensity in his face. “This is supposed to be a night club vibe! Haven’t you ever been to a night club?”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Well— you’ve seen them on TV, I’m sure! Have more fun! Pretend you’re tipsy, if that helps! Makeup— can we get more blush on him?”

Taeil had never seen Jungwoo drink even once before, but the instruction seemed to help. Jungwoo felt more limber in the next take, hitting the dance moves with less sharp precision and more carefree passion. The synchronization with the backup dancers was still breathtaking to watch, though.  _ And he looks like he’s having a blast. _ Taeil allowed himself to feel a split-second burst of envy. He’d never been to a nightclub before either, but not because he was an idol on a short leash, but because he was a loser.

Finally, the last dance shot was over, and Jungwoo’s makeup and hair were touched up once more— it was time for Yeri’s scenes, which Taeil had a feeling would become infamous. Yeri was a seasoned idol, but Jungwoo was a rookie, and he knew from the comments that he read every day how protective his fans were. This would either be a smashing, scandalous success, or a massive problem for them both.  _ What in the world is SM thinking? I swear, Taeyeon is letting it all go to her head. _

The storyline started on the dancefloor: Jungwoo’s eyes meeting Yeri’s, the overplayed seduction, the extras moving to the sides of the dance floor to let the young couple take center stage. Luckily - this impressed Taeil more than anything - Jungwoo knew better than to eroticize the moment, grabbing for her hands rather than her waist and giving her one of those big, glittery grins of his. It was early in the day, but they looked like a young couple drunk on each other, glowing and exuberant, spinning circles on the dance floor together.

The next part was choreographed, and they needed to shoot it a few times to get it right: Yeri’s hand closing around Jungwoo’s wrist, pulling him away from the crowded dance floor, down the hallway, up the stairs. The mood was still lighthearted, and the bedroom set they’d put together was illuminated with colored strings of fairy lights; less sexual, more fun, dreamy, and romantic. (In fact, during the first take, Jungwoo fell down onto the bed by complete accident, and both of them started laughing, which made Taeil slightly less worried about the whole thing. How was it possible to be so pure?)

Then there were the shots of Jungwoo and Yeri dancing by themselves, laughing at the absurdity of it all (this was genuine, Taeil was sure of it), all leading up to the moment they were all anticipating. “All right, we’re ready to shoot the kiss. Make it romantic, not racy,” the director called out; Taeil didn’t miss the red creeping into Jungwoo’s ears and cheeks. “You’re doing great so far! Keep this mood, it’s perfect!”

“Uh— okay!” Jungwoo smiled modestly, turning back to Yeri and raising an eyebrow. “Ready? Let me just—” Suddenly, he seemed a little more self-conscious than before. He hesitated before cupping Yeri’s face in his hands, and with the camera on him, he pressed his lips to hers in a convincingly eager but sweet kiss. When he pulled back,  _ Yeri _ was blushing too— Yeri, the shameless flirt who  _ never _ blushed.

“How was that?”

“Let’s try it a couple more times. Just so we have options,” the director mandated. “How about one with your hands out of the way?”

“Like this?” Jungwoo lowered his hands and instead wrapped his arms, timidly, around Yeri’s waist. In turn, her hands moved up to his shoulders, her head tilting back and her eyes sparkling beautifully with the multi-colored lights. It would be an amazing shot, for sure, but when Jungwoo kissed her a second time, Taeil had to close his eyes.

Jealousy, of all things. And he wasn’t even jealous of Jungwoo,  _ he was jealous of Yeri.  _ Jungwoo was liberal with skinship, never scared to throw a friendly arm around Taeil’s shoulders— but how would they feel on his hips, how would it feel to have to lean  _ up _ for a kiss instead of  _ down? _

_ “Beautiful,  _ Jungwoo. Let’s do just one more. Why don’t we have Yeri do the kissing this time?”

This time, Taeil wouldn’t look at all. Wouldn’t, or couldn’t, it was hard to say. He turned his back, swallowing the espresso-heartburn rising in his throat, and tried to go look busy somewhere else.

//

A music video shoot, promo photos, a Vlive in full styling, a fan chant video— when Taeil had made the schedule, it had been in the name of efficiency, but that was  _ before _ he knew just how emotionally drained he would be so early in the morning. By the time they slid into the car for the last time, nearly sixteen hours after the day started, he felt utterly hollow. Jungwoo, too, seemed exhausted— but true to his nature, he just couldn’t stop spilling his guts. And what was on his mind?  _ What else? _

“I can’t wait to see the edited music video! Are you going to make me wait to watch it so you can film my reaction for the internet, like you did last time?”

Taeil blinked. Oh, right. That  _ was _ his choice, wasn’t it? “I don’t know,” he answered dismissively, starting the car. “It’s whatever you want, I suppose.”

“I’m mostly anxious to see how the kiss turned out. It was fucking  _ weird,” _ Jungwoo remarked with a nervous laugh. “I’ve never kissed a girl before. How did it look, seriously? Did I look awkward? I was  _ terrified.” _

“You looked great together,” Taeil answered without thought. “You looked like a real couple. You guys were awesome.”

“I feel like I’m not the best actor,” Jungwoo went on absentmindedly as Taeil drove, trying to tune out the unimportant and irritating  _ feelings _ that were nagging at his chest, focusing on the road instead. “And trust me, that was digging  _ deep. _ Yeri and I were best friends in middle school, and we haven’t seen each other that much since she debuted— which sounds like it would make things easier, but it actually made things  _ fucking impossible.  _ Plus, kissing lip gloss lips is gross. She was sticky.”

Sunyoung wore lip gloss from time to time, and Taeil could agree, it wasn’t his favorite. Lip  _ balm,  _ though— Jungwoo applied it religiously, strawberry flavored, and lately Taeil had been taking more notice. He braved a glance in Jungwoo’s direction, at his bare pink lips. Yup, looked soft.

“Did you see the new trainees?” Jungwoo went on after a few seconds, still bursting with energy (and probably delirious from sleep deprivation). “There’s like— this  _ gorgeous _ one, from Hong Kong. His name’s Wong Yukhei, and he’s gotta be at  _ least _ 185 centimeters tall. I know it’s stupid, but I was trying to close my eyes and picture him instead.”

There was someone else now. Someone tall, handsome, talented. It shouldn’t have bothered Taeil a bit, but when he was  _ already _ bothered, the delivery of this news made his stomach ache.  _ What’s wrong with me? Why am I this emotional over nothing?  _ “Oh,” Taeil managed in a controlled little voice, with his mind a hundred miles away.

“He’s  _ painfully  _ hot, and I could maybe find time to see him between promotions if I tried, but I don’t think he speaks any Korean. Hyung, do you speak any Cantonese?”

While Jungwoo went on, playing DJ on Taeil’s phone and speaking fondly about the newest batch of (apparently very attractive) trainees, Taeil only listened as much as he needed to, keeping his eyes on the road, his mouth shut, and his mind blank. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.  _ Not for Jungwoo. _ Maybe he really did need to get things going with Sunyoung again, or maybe he just needed to meet someone new. He’d settle for anyone, he told himself desperately, any girl who caught his eye and didn’t mind his crazy schedule.  _ I’m just lonely. I’m just going crazy with loneliness.  _ By the time they arrived back at the apartments, Jungwoo seemed to have picked up on Taeil’s off-kilter mood, and had gone mostly quiet, letting the music fill the silence. He didn’t even go for a tease when Taeil said, for the first time ever: “I told Sunyoung that I’d see her tonight, if you think you’ll be okay for an hour or two. I’ll give you my card to order yourself some food.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Jungwoo wasn’t looking at him, suddenly, not taking the opportunity to rib him for what he knew his manager’s objective was. He didn’t even speak up when he noticed that Taeil had handed over his personal credit card instead of the company one. “I’ll be here. Thanks for everything, hyung.”

Taeil waited for Jungwoo to disappear through the building’s front doors before reaching for his phone. That had been a lie, of course— he didn’t even know if Sunyoung was home, all he could do was pray that she’d respond.

_ “Are you busy? I need to see you.” _

//

Sunyoung  _ was _ home, and despite all her insistence that she was  _ dying _ to see Taeil for a good, proper fuck, he was pretty sure that he was the one who really needed it this time. He met her at the door, kissing her before she could even greet him, and once she pushed past the shock, she laughed against his mouth.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“I’ve just had a shit day. And I’m going to have a shit day tomorrow, too,” Taeil nearly pleaded, fingers lacing at the nape of her neck. “Distract me.”

“Sounds fun!” She pulled back to look into his eyes, and he had to avert his gaze. Why did he feel guilty? At the end of the day, sex was a distraction for both of them, wasn’t it?

_ Make me forget him. I just want to forget. _

The thought was there for a split second, and even  _ that _ was too long. Taeil closed his eyes and kissed her again, biting her lower lip, trying to entice her into skipping the small talk. (In preparation for his arrival, she had put on sticky cherry lip gloss, and he had never been so aware of it before.)

“You can— finger me, if you want?” Taeil panted out the words with his shirt half-unbuttoned, with Sunyoung’s lips trailing from his collarbone to his nipple— and as predicted, his invitation earned a sharp nip that he knew would bruise. It was the kind of stuff that they didn’t get to do during quickies at work, since it was messier and more time-consuming, but very few things numbed Taeil’s mind like the overwhelming pleasure of having something  _ inside  _ himself.

“I love how you phrase it like that, like you’re doing me some sort of favor,” she teased huskily, straddling his hips and making quick work of his remaining buttons. “Can’t you just man up and admit you’re into this shit? I already told you, there’s nothing  _ inherently  _ gay about anal sex.”

“Because I don’t want to. Hey, are we doing this or what? I don’t have all night.”

The next punishing bite was right at his nipple, and he wasn’t ready— but if  _ that _ wasn’t enough to distract him, then the embarrassment he felt at his own keening moan certainly was. “You know I like a bratty bottom. You’re pushing all the right buttons.”

"Just shut up and—"

"All right, all right. I got it. Take your pants off, then, Mr. I-Don't-Have-All-Night."

And that pretty much set the tone for everything after. Taeil wanted it dirty, wanted marks that he'd be able to see in the bathroom mirror when he showered the next morning. A reminder that he already had whatever it was that his brain was craving, a wonderful woman that he really should have just bit the bullet and bought a ring for. Plenty of bisexual men did it, hid one entire half of their sexuality from everyone but themselves.

_ Is it a sexuality if I don’t even care about the sex? I just want to kiss him. I just want him to look at me the way he looked at her. I just want to be the center of his world, the way he’s the center of mine. _

"Noona— wait. Stop."

"Is something wrong? I swear to God, I have  _ never _ had this much of a problem getting two fingers inside of you. Normally you take it like a champ."

Taeil shuddered as Sunyoung pulled her hand back and left him empty. Reflexively, he wrapped his arms around himself, and Sunyoung followed suit as soon as she’d wiped the lube off her hand, her thin arms surprisingly strong and resilient around his body. For a long time, he was silent,  _ trembling, _ and she asked no questions, just rubbing his back, stroking his hair—  _ fuck, I don’t deserve her. _

“You’re not going to believe it when I tell you what fucked-up, stupid thing I did now.”

“Oh, god. What?”

“I—” Was he really going to say this out loud? There would be no taking it back, no changing Sunyoung’s mind about him. For some reason, his father’s voice rang in the back of his mind, stern with unchecked disgust:  _ You’re not going to become one of those dancing boy-group fairies that you watch on TV. Not while I’m alive. If you and your two left feet get a call back from JYP, I’m going to assume that you sucked somebody’s dick for it, and I’ll keep you locked in your goddamn bedroom until you graduate if I have to. _

“Taeil, seriously.” Sunyoung’s voice had lost its quiet amusement.  _ She probably thinks I’m on drugs or something. _ He slipped out of her embrace to pull the bedsheet up over himself, suddenly feeling strange and exposed.

“I like Jungwoo. I might love Jungwoo. I feel like the biggest idiot in the world, noona. I don’t know what I’m  _ doing,  _ but I hate it.”

“Oh—” Her gasp, deep and shocked, was exactly what he was afraid of. Sunyoung was the type to find humor in any situation. If she couldn’t find any, then there was none there. “Taeil, anybody else,  _ literally  _ anybody else, would be better.”

“I know.”

“You can’t tell him. I think it’s sexual harassment if you tell him—”

_ “I know,” _ he whispered, the irritation in his voice more directed at himself than at her. “I’m not planning on telling him— but it still makes my job next to  _ impossible. _ Today, I had to watch him kiss Yeri like  _ four times,  _ and I felt like I was going to die.”

“Jeez.” Sunyoung sighed, visibly hesitating before she decided  _ “fuck it”  _ and pulled him in for another hug, his face pressed against her neck, the lingering spicy scent of her perfume. “If it’s a conflict of interests, talk about it with Taeyeon. At this point, with Jungwoo getting popular, it probably doesn’t matter so much who manages him. See if she’ll switch you out with the one of the guys managing EXO now. I know they’re a bunch of fuckboys, but at least you won’t be tempted to kiss any of them.”

For better or worse, Taeil knew that he could always count on Sunyoung for logic. A tiny part of him had been hoping that she’d tell him to pursue happiness and give him her blessing, but all she did was exactly what she was good at: she confirmed the insanity that he feared for himself. “I think… he would be sad if I just up and left him like that,” Taeil protested lamely, which earned something like a shocked laugh from Sunyoung.

“I mean, did you plan on managing him  _ forever?” _

“No…”

“One of you, eventually, won’t be here anymore. For some reason or another, personal or business. Hell, you could tell him that it was Taeyeon’s decision and not yours, if you wanted.” Sunyoung sighed, giving him a dainty kiss on the cheek. “You never cry. Poor baby…”  _ I’m crying?  _ He hadn’t even realized it— but then she wiped a stray tear from his cheek, and his stomach sank when he realized that he felt nothing, nothing at all.

“I’ll think about it. I’m hoping it passes. I’m  _ really _ hoping it passes.”

Sunyoung seemed to be left at a loss for words— but her forehead rested against Taeil’s just as sweetly as before, her arms hugged him just as securely. “For your sake, so do I,” she agreed quietly. Then they closed their eyes and listened to each other’s breaths for awhile, for what Taeil knew would almost certainly be the last time. Finally, she was the one brave enough to speak up: “Get your clothes on. I’m going to make you some tea before you have to go.”

//

Sunyoung was right, as she often was, but that didn’t mean that Taeil had to like it. In fact, driving back to the dorms, he almost wished that he’d been able to man up and fuck her, faked an orgasm, and gone home to cry in peace. Now he was left with this perfectly reasonable, intelligent solution, and the more he thought about it, the more he absolutely hated it.

The things he thought about as he tried to make up his mind were perfectly  _ unreasonable, _ perfectly  _ stupid. _ A new manager wouldn’t know exactly how Jungwoo liked his breakfast (soft-scrambled eggs, extra-crispy bacon, coffee with milk or tea with nothing at all). Whoever Taeil was sent to manage next would have to learn his nuances from the top: how he got quiet when his head ached, how he fidgeted with his sleeves when he was uncomfortable, how the only thing that could unstress him on his worst days was tidying and organizing until the people around him were slowly driven crazy. He thought about their shared closet, of all things, how Jungwoo liked his clothes tight and Taeil wore everything oversized, meaning that they could swap things like sweaters almost perfectly. The article of clothing he always reached for on chilly mornings was a pale gray cable-knit sweater that reached his mid-thigh, and it had belonged to Jungwoo, originally. He’d have to steal it— but eventually, it would lose the smell of Jungwoo’s perfume...

“Fuck.” Taeil swore aloud when he pulled the car into the garage, his voice trembling.  _ I don’t want to. I can’t make this decision all on my own. _ He blinked hard, dabbed at his eyes with his jacket sleeves a million times. If Jungwoo ever caught him crying over him, Taeil would be so mortified that he’d have no  _ choice  _ but to leave.

The living room was dark, and the smell of food was absent from the kitchen. Everything was far too clean for Jungwoo to have recently eaten, and for a panicked moment, Taeil wondered if the idol was home at all. But when he held his breath and waited, he heard the beginning notes of a song that he hadn’t heard in ages:  _ “Na na na na na na…”  _ He nearly winced. How Jungwoo could stomach  _ Touch  _ in his off-time, he had no idea.

“I’m home,” Taeil announced over the music as he opened the bedroom door, trying to stay as blank-faced and neutral as he’d left. His next move was going to be asking Jungwoo what he’d eaten (and if there were any extras), but his mouth paused wide open as he took in the scene before him: Jungwoo setting aside one empty soju bottle next to another, cheeks flushed and eyes bloodshot. It had been an early morning, and the  _ next _ morning would be early, and— Jungwoo always put on a brave face, but he had to be tired,  _ had  _ to be.

“You came back?” Jungwoo questioned, words predictably slurred and heavy. “Thought you were gonna stay wherever you were goin'.”

_ Why would you think that? _ Taeil wanted to ask, but once again, the words were stolen before he could put them into sound.  _ His eyes are red. He’s been crying. Oh my god, did I make him cry? _

“Jungwoo, why are you drunk? Did you even eat?”

“I shouldn’t’a brought up the trainees thing. I dunno what I was even doing.”

“Why—”

“My dad was right. It was stupid of me to think I could be  _ myself _ in an industry like  _ this.” _ At first, Taeil had no idea what Jungwoo was talking about, but it pieced itself together as the idol continued: “I’m never gonna be able to sing an honest love song, and I’m never gonna be able to kiss who I wanna kiss in a music video. Sorry you got stuck with me. I’m gonna— startin’ tomorrow, I’m gonna try to put it behind me.”

Taeil’s chest ached sharply, physical rather than mental, and he winced. This was too much for him; he’d wanted to cry before, and suddenly his vision was blurring. He blinked hard and pressed on his eyes for as long as he dared, hoping that Jungwoo was too drunk to notice. “Jungwoo, can you slow down? I don’t understand what’s made you upset all of a sudden.”

“I jus’ don’ wanna disgust you, hyung. Every time I mention likin’ a guy, you freeze up, like you’re scared ‘f me. If I stop talkin’ about it, can you jus’... forget about it?”

Taeil’s hands were shaking, and he clasped them before him, trying to will himself to stop. Jungwoo needed him, Taeil had a job to do— but  _ damn,  _ did it ever hit close to home. “Jungwoo, I’m not going to forget. But it’s okay. Please don’t cry.” He could almost hear himself telling him, admitting it aloud—  _ I like you, and I shouldn’t, and I can’t, and there’s nothing we can do about it, and it’s going to hurt so much when we’re pulled apart, it’s going to be excruciating. _ The words were in his mouth, and stubbornly, he swallowed them, sitting beside Jungwoo on his bed and slipping a nervous arm around his shoulders. “I’m not scared of you. I’m sad for you, because I know— I mean, I  _ think _ I know how much it hurts. But out of all the idols I’ve managed, I think you want it the most, and I think you’ve beat the most impossible odds. If I seem scared, or uneasy— I don’t know how to explain it. It’s a lot of things, but it’s not  _ that.” _

“You don’ think that I’m gross, do you?”

“No, Jungwoo. Never.”

Jungwoo whimpered, hiccuped— and then his arms wrapped around Taeil’s waist with surprising strength, squeezing tight. Once again, Taeil was amazed by how solid Jungwoo was: his shoulders, his back beneath Taeil’s hands. And he wasn’t freshly showered, but somehow, he still smelled good; Taeil couldn’t resist pressing his face lightly into Jungwoo’s shoulder and breathing him in as subtly as he dared.

“We should hug more. You give nice hugs.” Jungwoo sounded weirdly sober, for just a second, saying words that Taeil only wished that he had the courage to say.  _ Yes, hug more. Hug me more right now. Don’t let go of me.  _ But before he could even fathom a response, Jungwoo went on: “You’re so squishy!”

“All right— let go of me. You smell like soju,” Taeil mumbled, doing his best to sound unaffected as he slipped out of Jungwoo’s grasp and took to his feet. “You need to eat something, or else you’re going to regret it tomorrow. Stay here. I’m going to make you a sandwich.”

“Grilled cheese?” Jungwoo’s plea was so pathetically small, there was no saying no.

“You got it. Get yourself ready for bed, all right? It will be a few minutes.” Taeil hoped it didn’t come off as cold, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Jungwoo right away; even drunk and whining, he was too bright, too  _ glittery, _ and Taeil thought it might be enough to break his fragile will. Besides, he had more important matters to attend to: that sweater, which was not hanging where it belonged but was instead draped over the back of Jungwoo’s desk chair. He grabbed it as casually as he could manage, slipping it over his head on his way back to the kitchen, and if Jungwoo noticed, he didn’t call him out.

//

The next morning, Jungwoo woke up at 5:30 AM, without a hangover, and went for a run while Taeil made coffee and scrambled eggs. After he returned and showered himself, he sat at the table in just his sweatpants, same as always, and neither of them said a word about any of it. Taeil ate quietly, letting Jungwoo scroll through fancafe comments and read the funniest ones aloud, while all the while trying out configurations of words in his mind and letting them disintegrate before they could hit his tongue.

What in the world would Jungwoo say if Taeil ever confessed to him? He never should have let the thought cross his mind, because he knew from that moment, he would never be able to shake it from his mind. He honestly couldn’t picture it.  _ Jungwoo, I think I love you. _ His eyes would widen, his cheeks would flush… and then what?  _ Then what? _

//

The  _ View  _ MV was exactly the bomb that SM Entertainment was looking to drop. Oh, yes, there was negative buzz. Jungwoo took heat for kissing Yeri, Yeri took heat for kissing Jungwoo. But Jungwoo was also praised and lauded for his acting performance, the light-hearted romanticism that he seemed to personify. It pissed off teenage girls, but it  _ also  _ made them long for a boyfriend who would kiss them the way Jungwoo kissed Yeri. He had, with all of his innocent charm, become something of a sex symbol— or rather, SM had molded him into one.

It was an identity that Jungwoo now had to embrace onstage, and he did so without faltering: sweet, genuine, but also overwhelmingly flirtatious, scantily clad, gratuitously flashing his abs at every chance he got. And he was  _ damn _ good at it. Taeil could hardly believe it— and he had to remind himself, each and every day, not to let his eyes linger too long.

(So maybe it  _ was _ a sexual thing. Huh.)

Luckily, the grind of promotions was so consuming that Taeil could easily keep his mind occupied. He was too busy to worry, and certainly too busy to thirst. He had interviews to arrange, shows to schedule, social media to manage. Even on music show days, with so much time spent sitting and waiting— Jungwoo was getting popular, getting busy, and it gave Taeil plenty to do, too. 

On the fifth day of promotions, Jungwoo was unusually quiet: not seeming unhappy, but perhaps more pensive than usual. His eyes were trained on his own face in the mirror as he waited for his own stage rehearsal: bright blue contacts, black lined eyes, dark hair streaked with chunks of bleach blond. Jungwoo hadn’t said a word in at least an hour, something that Taeil wasn’t quite used to, and it was hard for him to focus wholly on anything else when his eyes kept getting drawn up from his phone screen by his own apprehension.  _ What does he think about when he looks at himself? _

“You okay, Jungwoo? You seem tired.”

“Tired, maybe…” Jungwoo admitted softly, shrugging. It was a rare statement, and it caught Taeil off-guard. As far as he could tell, Jungwoo was superhuman, never got tired— but that was stupid, of course. Every single idol in that room had a breaking point. “Maybe a little sentimental,” Jungwoo added delicately, before Taeil could think too much about it. “Hyung, I know we haven’t really talked about the other night, but I don’t feel right not properly thanking you.”

Taeil felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a pleasurable little shiver that shouldn’t have been. “Why? I mean… look, we don’t need to talk about that stuff at all. We can leave it right where it is. And there’s no need to thank me for anything. SM Entertainment thanks me with a paycheck.”

“You can say that all you want, but you put up with a lot more shit than SM Entertainment requires of you. So humor me for, like, ten seconds, okay?” Jungwoo snorted as though it were all a joke, but it only took Taeil a moment to see how serious he was by the way he was fidgeting with his hands, repeatedly twirling the convincing little costume ring on his finger. "You know this about me already, but I don't really have friends. I mean, not friends that I can be completely open with. Even the friends I made on Produce 101 had such a different experience than me, debuting in groups instead of by themselves. I was angry at the beginning, I felt like I was shouldering so much weight by myself, but— actually, I wasn't  _ really _ by myself. I feel like you debuted with me. Even though you're not onstage, you're just as much a part of this as I am. If I were  _ truly _ alone, I think I would have given up by now."

Taeil had to try hard not to laugh with his nerves; he  _ did _ feel himself blushing as he allowed himself to smile. "I appreciate all the faith you have in me. Y'know… I wouldn’t have a chance in hell of debuting as an idol, but if I were going to, I'd want to be with you, too."

There it was. As close as Taeil would ever get to making a love confession. Jungwoo smiled warmly, that  _ genuine _ smile that Taeil so loved, and all at once his light seemed blinding. It was painful to behold, it made his chest tighten and his eyes burn, but he couldn't look away. Wouldn’t for anything.  _ He’s beautiful. _

"I have a good feeling about today, for some reason. I can't shake the feeling that we're gonna win,” Jungwoo changed the subject gently, attentions going from fidgeting with his hands to fixing his bangs in the mirror.

Taeil couldn't shake it, either. In his opinion,  _ View  _ was Jungwoo's best EP to date. He'd bought a few copies for Nara and her friends, asked Jungwoo to sign them— but then he’d kept one for himself, which he stowed away in one of his suitcases where Jungwoo wouldn’t stumble upon it, and he couldn’t quite explain why. Maybe he just wanted the only piece of Jungwoo that he could have.

“If you win today, I’ll buy you whatever you want to eat after,” Taeil promised, plastering on a casual sort of smile and looking back down at his phone. He hoped that Jungwoo won, and he hoped that he picked something excessively expensive and indulgent afterwards. He deserved it.

Jungwoo treated every rehearsal like a performance— they were all perfect, and the performance was perfect, too. Watching from the backstage monitor, Taeil was once more left in awe, and he had to wring his hands to keep them from trembling. Maybe this was the worst place for him, but he didn’t want to be with EXO, or Red Velvet, or wasting away in the SM offices, or anywhere except right next to Jungwoo. It was a bad choice, an indulgent choice.

He’d never really done that before,  _ indulged. _

“And finally, this week’s winner…  _ Kim Jungwoo!” _

Jungwoo was onstage when the winner was announced; when the camera zoomed in on him, he looked bewildered, eyes wide and lips trembling as the microphone was thrust into one hand and the Inkigayo trophy was thrust into the other. He’d prepared a speech, just in case, but it morphed into something very different through his tears: “Thank you to my fans, and to SM Entertainment— I don’t deserve this, but I’m accepting it on behalf of my fans. Nobody works as hard as my fans! A-And—” He cut himself off with a hiccup, which made the entire crowd roar. “And thank you to Taeil hyung, thank you for debuting with me! I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me!” With this said, with his fans still  _ screaming _ for his emotional outburst, he remained onstage by himself while the other idols filed off, and once again he sang  _ View  _ perfectly _. _ He was, after all, a  _ professional. _

Taeil told himself that he wasn't going to cry, but his resolve broke when Jungwoo came backstage at the end and engulfed him in a hug. Once again— his body was so warm, so strong, but also shaking with adrenaline and tears. Half of Taeil wanted to curl up in his embrace forever and let himself be babied and protected, while the other half wanted to squeeze Jungwoo into his pocket and shield him from everything bad in the world.

He could do neither, so instead, between choked sentences that he couldn't figure out how to finish, he burst into the most confused tears of his life. Forgetting about the room full of idols and staff around them, of course, until a soft applause rippled through the room. How crazy did he look? The answer came to Twitter later that night, where the remaining fans that didn’t know of him were undoubtedly committing his name to memory, and Jungwoo was cultivating his reputation as the  _ crybaby idol. _

_ “Is his manager crying too?? Omo how cuuuute  _ 🤩”   
_ “Anyone know anything about his manager? I think Jungwoo calls him Taeil-hyung? Not gonna lie he’s super cute lol” _ _  
_ _ “Isn’t Moon Taeil the same manager that he’s had since his debut days? Haha he seems to be shy but the camera always has a way of finding him…” _

//

Jungwoo wasn’t changed by fame— it was everything else that changed, faster than either of them were ready for. Jungwoo, as promised, was finally provided his own cell phone by the company, and shortly after the end of promotions, they were moved to a new, larger dorm. They’d been sharing a bedroom for an entire  _ year,  _ sharing Jungwoo’s late-night songwriting sessions, sharing snores and sleeptalking; now suddenly, they’d have a place with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, which had long been Taeil’s  _ dream. _

But it didn’t  _ feel _ like a dream, sitting on his new bed, unpacking his precious few belongings. Jungwoo was right across the hallway in the master bedroom, but in a years’ time, they’d never slept so far apart. There were two doors between them now, and though he could still hear Jungwoo playing his guitar through the wall, it was muffled. For once, he could have put on his headphones and forgot that Jungwoo existed, if he wanted to. And that  _ hurt  _ in a strange, biting sort of way.

Taeil pushed his empty suitcase beneath the bed and stepped out into the hallway. Through the full-length mirror mounted on Jungwoo’s bedroom wall, he could catch sight of the idol’s reflection, in which he sat cross-legged on his bed, working over lyrics with his guitar in his lap and a serious little frown on his face. It must have been nice for him, existing for once without a single set of eyes on him, supervising his every move.  _ But I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without his stuffy nose irritating me all night. _

“What’cha doing, hyung?”

“O-Oh…” Taeil felt a sudden rush of heat from beneath his collar as he was called out, and he stepped back instinctively. “Nothing. Just… seeing how you’re doing. All unpacked?”

“Mostly! I’m taking a break. Working on fixing up a couple songs. You can come in!”

Jungwoo’s room was larger than Taeil’s, with a bigger closet (which he needed more, to be fair); the shelves built into the wall were already decorated with CDs, books, little trinkets, and gifts from the fans. And above his bed, just as he’d displayed at the old place, he’d hung up a bulletin board so papered in fan letters that they’d begun to overlap each other. (So many people loved and needed Jungwoo that Taeil was no longer special, but for the simple fact that Jungwoo needed him in return.) Rather than using a single harsh lamp, as Taeil did, Jungwoo had strung up a bunch of tiny, delicate lantern lights around the tops of the walls; they made his skin glow warmly and his eyes sparkle like stardust.

Just like that, Taeil found himself tearing up.

“I have  _ so  _ much more room for my clothes here,” Jungwoo announced obliviously, righting his guitar in his lap and plucking a few impatient notes. “But also— like, this is gonna sound stupid, but I feel like you’re too far away from me now. What if I have a nightmare and you’re not right there next to me?”

Taeil found himself smiling softly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve never once woken me up after a nightmare.”

“Of course, I don’t wake you up. But when I’m awake in the night and I’m feeling unsettled, I just close my eyes and focus on the sound of your snoring. It makes me feel better.”

Taeil pursed his lips, doing his utmost not to laugh. Almost the same reasoning as his own— the difference being that Taeil was one hundred percent serious. “I don’t snore, that’s you and your  _ weird  _ sinuses,” he protested haughtily, keeping his stance as casual as he could as he sat down beside Jungwoo on the edge of the bed and looked curiously over at his lyrics. “Is this one of the songs you want on your full album this spring?”

_ Hallelujah, _ that was the song title, written in romanized letters at the top of the lyric sheet. Taeil had seen these lyrics before, incomplete— he wondered if they were too personal to read like this, and so he averted his gaze respectfully away. “Yeah, hopefully. I have a melody in mind. I was trying to decide on some harmonies,” Jungwoo explained, biting his thumbnail in concentration. It was such a cute expression that Taeil couldn’t take it, he  _ had _ to look back at the lyrics.  _ “How could this be? You’re so beautiful, how do I even say it? There are no words, no words to express the masterpiece that is you.” _

“It’s pretty,” Taeil managed lamely, though his throat was so dry that his voice cracked slightly. “Maybe I can give you some ideas.”

Jungwoo’s eyes brightened, somehow, and he grinned. “Does this mean I finally get to hear you sing in person? I’ve been waiting!”

_ This is a person who thinks my singing voice is worth something, _ Taeil reminded himself, focusing on the lyrics in front of him and trying to calm his accelerating heart. “Yeah. If you want,” he finally conceded. “I’m not warmed up, though. Don’t laugh if I sound like shit.”

Taeil wasn’t sure that he had ever seen Jungwoo so happy. The younger simply  _ beamed _ with it. “You’re going to be great,” Jungwoo reassured him with absolute confidence, eyes going wide and earnest. “Let me sing you what I have so far, and you can tell me what you think, okay?”

A chill of pleasure. Jungwoo was going to sing for him,  _ just _ for him, a song laden with nothing but praise. It wasn’t a song written for  _ him, _ but he sure as hell could close his eyes and pretend.

_ “You’re the work of God, a lethal masterpiece, _ __  
_ I want to pray my thanks for your existence. _ _  
_ __ Hallelujah, you got me singing hallelujah.”


	6. Lunar New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short but important lil guy :) I'm diving into the final chapter right now, as well as working on some other NCT content that will be published closer to Christmas, but @_@ wanted to get in an update while I could!

_ Kids who wanted to be idols were a dime a dozen. Even in his own group of high school friends, there were those more deserving, and Taeil thought about it all the time. Lately people had been telling him that he was good, that he was amazing, but he had a father who was not stingy with the truth: that he was stupid, ugly, and worthless. _

_ “I’m not going to audition, I don’t think. But I’ll go with you and cheer you on, if you want.” _

_ Every one of his friends looked at him incredulously when he’d said it: Jaebeom, who had been singing since he was five years old, and Suji, who had studied ballet, and Jinri, who had modeled and been in commercials as a child. Why did it seem so crazy to them? If there was anyone who didn’t belong standing between them, like a dark cloud, like a void— _

_ “You’ve got the best voice out of all of us, Taeil. You have to at least try.” _

_ Taeil didn’t believe that, not for a second, but the truth was, he wanted to try. He liked to imagine that he had something special, and practicing with his friends in drama club was fun, and imagining himself on a real stage felt self-indulgent as fuck— _

_ When Taeil got a callback after his first audition, he couldn’t believe it and he didn’t want to tell anybody. Not his mother, who would get too hopeful; not his sister, who would brag to all of her friends; certainly not his father, who would probably laugh in his face and ask what kind of shithole company would take someone like him. He didn’t even tell his friends until Suji was screaming over her callback and he finally admitted, shyly, that he’d heard back from them, too. _

_ When Taeil got a second callback, he thought that it had to be Jaebeom playing a joke on him, until he confronted him about the voicemail he thought Jaebeom left and his friend’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. Everyone had demanded to hear them, and everyone had screamed, because they were from Park Jinyoung himself. Bring a guardian, he’d said, he wanted to discuss the terms of a training contract. _

_ For the first time, Taeil wondered if the self-loathing that he felt was misplaced, if the cuts rubbing irritatingly against the waistband of his pants every day were misplaced. A person who was worth something finally thought that he was worth something. This wasn’t a friend who was obligated to be nice to him, this was Park Jinyoung, Park  _ Fucking _ Jinyoung. _

_ Maybe Taeil was enough. Maybe this face was enough. Maybe this body was enough. Maybe the talent that he’d never been able to believe in was enough. Maybe things would be okay, better than okay, happily ever after. _

_ Or maybe Taeil would work his ass off for four years in a university that taught him nothing. Maybe he’d end up a manager in a floundering K-pop company, with all of the promise but none of the passion, a walking zombie who no longer felt. Maybe the pain would one day ease, replaced with a hopeless complacency that was worse. _

_ Maybe the scars wouldn’t build up forever, but they sure would remind him of what he needed to hear, years after his father’s lungs had filled with dirt and worms: stupid, ugly, worthless. _

_ Hear something enough times, and it becomes engrained. Taeil would never be rid of it. _

_ Stupid, ugly, worthless. _

//

Three days off. In all his days working for SM Entertainment, Taeil couldn't remember such a thing. An idol might get a short vacation between promotions, but a manager  _ always _ had things to do: phone calls to make, appointments to schedule, meetings to attend. But for the Lunar New Year, they were given three completely cleared days, along with Jungwoo’s first legitimate paycheck.

“It’s a gift,” Taeyeon reminded him as he left her office. “A gift for keeping SM afloat by yourselves. Really, I wish I could give you something more. Make sure Jungwoo doesn’t spend it holed up in the practice room, okay? You two should both go home and see your families.”

Taeil, naturally, told Nara that he only had a single day off. Going home for Chuseok had been a reassurance: it was a lot easier to be around his family now that his father wasn’t in the picture. But he didn’t want to tether himself to home all three days, because he  _ knew _ that Jungwoo wouldn’t go, no matter what he did or said. Of course Jungwoo was twenty-three years old, he  _ should _ have been okay taking care of himself, but he was too social to be holed up by himself for three days. He would be lonely, Taeil reasoned,  _ miserably _ lonely.  _ “Sorry, Nara. I’ll come visit home on Sunday =)” _

Friday and Saturday, then, were for Jungwoo. Two uninterrupted days just for them, a dream come true.

Friday was the first morning in ages that Jungwoo didn’t wake up with the dawn and go for a run. Instead, they both slept into the late morning; when Taeil was getting out of the shower at nearly noon, Jungwoo was just shuffling out of his bedroom, drowsy and puffy-eyed and adorable. They went for coffee in the early afternoon, did some shopping to celebrate Jungwoo’s first paycheck— and then, as promised, Jungwoo treated Taeil to hotpot and wine for dinner. It was normal to enjoy each other’s company, but without the stress of bouncing from schedule to schedule, without worrying about cameras and professionalism, everything was just so unbelievably  _ comfortable. _

“You’re drinking more?” Taeil observed as Jungwoo stepped into the living room later that evening with a bottle of soju in each hand. The younger offered him one, but Taeil shook his head to decline: “I don’t drink, but you do what you want. Just don’t drink too much and get sad on me, now.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Jungwoo answered in good humor, cracking the first bottle open and sipping it straight from the bottle. “Y’know, I’m surprised that you wanted to spend the day together. This is the one time you could be free of me— I figured you’d want to see your family. Or Sunyoung.”

Taeil rolled his eyes. “Why are you so worried about me and Sunyoung, anyway? It’s like I told you… me and Sunyoung, it’s a  _ non- _ thing. We really are just friends.”

“I have a good sense of these things. I know you like each other. It’s just… a matter of schedules, right?” Jungwoo chuckled, grabbing the remote and flipping mindlessly through the TV channels. Funny, for two people in the entertainment industry, their television went strangely untouched; Taeil had spent the time since dinner trying and failing to read, and now that Jungwoo was there as further distraction, he slipped his bookmark in and set his novel aside. “But neither of us are ever gonna find anyone who operates on the same schedule as us, anyway. If that’s your logic, you’ll be single until you retire.”

“It’s more than that. It’s a lot of things. I don’t want to get into it right now,” Taeil answered honestly. He was quiet for a moment, wondering what Jungwoo was thinking about,  _ who _ Jungwoo was thinking about. He’d been tight-lipped since the night he’d apologized for himself—  _ and I don’t want him to feel like he has to hide himself. I hate that I made him feel that way. _ “You— you haven’t dated, right? Not since Sicheng?”

“Oh my god,  _ hyung,  _ don’t even get me started,” Jungwoo responded quickly, and perhaps Taeil was only imagining it, but despite Jungwoo’s words, he could sense the idol’s relief at the opportunity to speak so freely. He settled his television choice on what looked to be some kind of reality show, but he kept the volume so low that Taeil doubted he was paying attention. “I turn twenty-four this year, and I’ve kissed  _ one _ boy. And, I mean— doing music is more important to me than kissing boys, obviously. I just wish… I dunno.” He shrugged weakly, meeting Taeil’s eyes with an uncharacteristic shimmer of shame in his dark eyes as he admitted, “All those songs I wrote, they’re about  _ nobody.  _ They’re based on the feelings I’ve read about in romance novels. It just makes me feel kind of… stupid? Immature?”

Taeil smiled wryly. “I don’t think that’s uncommon in the entertainment industry— idol or staff, it doesn’t matter, none of us can spare the energy for anything besides sex. You’re not alone, Jungwoo.” It must have felt that way, though, when expressing interest to the wrong person could easily punch a giant hole in Jungwoo’s life work. Taeil was beginning to know what  _ that _ felt like lately—  _ wanting the one thing you simply can’t have. _

Jungwoo took another long dreg from his soju bottle before he answered. (How did he learn to drink like that? Taeil wasn’t sure he wanted to ask.) “But at least you’ve had real experience. I’m kind of envious. I’d like to date. Having no experience makes me feel like a phony every time I write a love song.”

Taeil had been trying little by little to open up to Jungwoo, to let little glimpses of himself through to make the idol feel more comfortable with their camaraderie. Maybe this was just one of those moments, maybe he needed to take a metaphorical bullet for Jungwoo. He sighed, welling up his courage, and confessed, “Honestly, though? Sunyoung was my first and only girlfriend, and we were more like friends who had sex than boyfriend and girlfriend. I’m a twenty-seven year old with only one ex-girlfriend, one who  _ barely _ counts. I don’t think it makes me any less mature, though. Relationships are only one  _ tiny  _ part of maturity.” He smiled slightly, without meaning to. “I think you’re mature. I think you’ve done really well with what opportunities you’ve had. Be proud of yourself.”

Jungwoo blinked, eyes widening in surprise. Comical, with the rosy flush that had taken over his cheeks and nose. Yup, he was definitely drunk. “You’re twenty-seven? Wait— so you’re only like four years older than me? That’s so young!”

“What the hell, how old did you think I was?”

“Older than twenty-seven! You give off dad-vibes!” Jungwoo retorted, as though it were obvious. Dad-vibes? Taeil couldn’t determine if Jungwoo was trying to compliment him or not, but Jungwoo’s words were slurred and his voice was unnaturally loud— Taeil doubted that he’d thought his own comments through that far. “And you’re  _ beyond _ mature. You take such good care of me, it’s crazy. Actually, y’know? Screw having a boyfriend. You’re better to me than any boyfriend. I’m so lucky you’re mine, hyung.”

Taeil’s mouth felt dry all at once. Maybe it was just Jungwoo being clumsy with words, but Taeil liked the effect.  _ He could never be mine, but I’m perfectly fine with being his. _ This was too much,  _ way _ too much. “You’re—  _ so _ cheesy. On second thought, give me that soju, will you? You’re stressing me out. I want a shot.”

“Yayy, go hyung!” Jungwoo cheered obliviously, passing the bottle over. The strong smell of alcohol was off-putting, and the burn going down his throat nearly made him gag, but the all-over warm feeling set in quickly. He supposed he could understand why Jungwoo liked this. He certainly couldn’t understand why his father had wanted to feel this way all the time, though.

Jungwoo finished most of that first bottle, becoming more drowsy with each sip until he was leaning his cheek against Taeil’s arm. Taeil took a couple more sips himself, and he was certain he didn’t need any more. This was  _ plenty:  _ the warmth, the pleasant fuzziness, the amplified feeling of his heart leaping and pounding in his chest.  _ I’m so lucky I’m yours. For all the complaining I do about my job— I’m so fucking lucky. _

It wasn’t long after Jungwoo finished the bottle that he announced he was going to bed. While Taeil was put-together enough to remind him to drink a glass of water on his way, he was too tipsy and too distracted to do the sensible thing, which was going to bed himself. Thinking too hard always got him in trouble, and he shouldn’t have allowed himself to pine over the moment— but he missed the warmth of Jungwoo’s cheek on his shoulder just moments after it was gone. He stared at the TV mindlessly, the colorful and distracting string of commercials, and his stomach felt tight with sickness. He reached for the second bottle of soju that Jungwoo had forgotten about on the coffee table, unopened, and he cracked the seal himself.

One sip, liquid courage. Two sips, fuck, how did people  _ drink _ this stuff? It gave him a nasty chill as he swallowed it down, and he had to hope it wouldn’t come back up.

Three sips, as long and deep as he could manage, because he was about to do something fucking  _ stupid, _ and the more he could blame it on the alcohol, the better.

Jungwoo’s door was ajar when Taeil reached the end of the hallway, and he paused just centimeters away, wondering where to start, wondering what to even  _ say. _ He wanted to address his feelings, but he hadn’t decided just how deep he wanted to go.  _ Hey, you can feel free to forget about this come tomorrow, but I think I like you. No, actually, I have a massive, disgusting crush, and I’ve never felt this way about a guy, and it’s sort of my worst fear come true— but forget about it, okay? _

He pushed the door silently open once he’d gathered his nerve, nearly recoiling at the sight of Jungwoo’s half-dressed body. It was still a shock, seeing him shirtless, the muscles in his arms and shoulders; he forgot to breathe for half a second, realizing only once Jungwoo’s body was cloaked in a soft, oversized pink sweatshirt. Shirtless was undeniably nice, but this was Taeil’s  _ very _ favorite Jungwoo, the one he just wanted to bury his face in.

This was stupid. Things would never be the same— things could become  _ catastrophically _ bad, if he was unlucky.  _ Worst case scenario, I guess I just go back to EXO. But— god, I’d miss him. _

“Jungwoo?”

“Wassup?” Jungwoo’s expression was bright when he whirled around to face him. It was hard for Taeil to look, he was worried that he might cry— but he looked anyway, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d have with Jungwoo after this. He wanted to remember every detail of his face this way: no makeup, no photoshop, with all its laugh lines and dimples intact.

“I wanted to talk to you about something before I go to sleep.”

“Oh. ‘Kay.” Jungwoo was totally oblivious as he sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him, indicating for Taeil to sit. “You’re all red. You’re a lightweight, huh?”

“Yeah. Something like that.” Taeil managed a laugh, which sounded unnatural in his own ears. But he did take the invitation to sit, and regretted it when Jungwoo scooted close. Taeil could feel his warmth, smell the cloying sweetness of his fabric softener and his scented moisturizer.

“Wait. Look at me,” Jungwoo instructed, voice barely above a whisper. The shock of the command made Taeil obey without question, and he was frozen with fear as Jungwoo leaned in and reached for his face, brushing under his eye with his thumb. “There. Sorry. Eyelash.”

Taeil had been tentatively stringing together phrases in his mind, trying to decide how to put it.  _ I think I like you — I know how bad this is — I don’t want to lose you — I’ll understand if you don’t want me here anymore —  _ but that all went out the window with the single brush of skin on skin. The buzz of alcohol, the pounding of his heart, it was a lot to handle— 

And then, out of nowhere, Jungwoo’s lips were on his. Or more accurately,  _ his _ lips were on Jungwoo’s. His body had moved forward on autopilot, and he was probably just as surprised as Jungwoo must have been. They were both stiff, and Taeil was just waiting for him to jerk back and ask him what the fuck he was doing.

But he didn’t. Instead, Jungwoo leaned closer, tilted his head for a better angle, let out a soft little sigh that made Taeil’s heart skip a beat. He tasted sharp like soju, sweet like strawberry lip balm— his new favorite flavor. His thumb brushed across Taeil’s cheek again, and Taeil’s hand slid up Jungwoo’s back, pulling him closer by the shoulders. He wanted more, as much as Jungwoo would give him before they sobered up, and for the moment he couldn’t worry about the logic or the ethics of it.  _ I’ll give you all of me, if you’ll let me. _

Jungwoo pulled back first, breath shaky, eyes wide, lips still parted and glistening. Here it was, that moment that Taeil had contemplated for weeks, wondering just how Jungwoo would respond. It was the closest Taeil could remember to feeling like vomiting without  _ actually  _ vomiting.

_ “Shit,  _ I’m drunk,” Jungwoo finally breathed, neither bragging nor admonishing, just an observation.

“I know. So am I. I’m sorry.” Taeil was suddenly flustered beyond belief, but despite that, the closest place to hide his shame was right in Jungwoo’s shoulder— and much to his relief, Jungwoo pulled him in close and clung to him tight.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I— I like you,” Taeil confessed at last, eyes closed against his own dizzy intoxication. “I like you and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh—” Jungwoo’s answer was soft and ambiguous. He truly didn’t know what to make of it, until the idol spoke again, his thumb tracing the edge of Taeil’s jaw and coaxing him out of hiding. His face was so heartbreakingly beautiful, with only the touch of red on his cheeks to hint at his own uncertainty. “Will you kiss me again? You’re a good kisser.”

Jungwoo was too drunk for this. Taeil was  _ definitely _ too drunk for this. But _ kissing  _ sounded beyond blissful, and even if Jungwoo was just being nice, the compliment of Taeil’s ability warmed him from his cheeks to the tips of his toes. Their lips found each other again without words, melding perfectly, Jungwoo’s tongue darting past Taeil’s lips as though  _ he’d  _ been waiting far too long for this, too. He was a little clumsy, a little too eager; Taeil pulled back just enough to slow him down before boldly taking the lead, and Jungwoo conceded with no qualms, seeming happy to follow an example.

This might have been the last night that he had with Jungwoo, might have been the last night that he’d spend as a manager, but that was a problem for the next morning. In the moment, all Taeil could bring himself to care about was the feeling of finally,  _ finally _ having something that he wanted.

//

Taeil was hungover when he woke up, which was unsurprising. In all of his twenty-seven years, he wasn’t sure that he’d ever had more than a single drink of alcohol, and suddenly he’d had… well, shit, he hadn’t really counted.  _ Enough. _ His throat and lips felt dry, and his mouth tasted horrible because he’d forgotten to brush his teeth, and his stomach had that warm, burning, queasy sort of feeling that often came before puking.

Even so, that all took a backseat to the arms around his midsection and the repeated tickle of Jungwoo’s breath on his shoulder. The realization that  _ Jungwoo _ was the source of his warmth made everything else feel shitty and insignificant, and he closed his eyes with a slow exhale, trying to slow his racing heart before he really did make himself sick.

The kiss had really happened. It was a kiss that could spell the end of his career - he might have been waking up into his last day ever as Jungwoo’s manager, he realized gravely - but his mind still grasped for all the little details it could gather. The way Jungwoo had shuddered in surprise and then leaned so trustingly into him the first time. The strength of his arms around Taeil’s waist. The frightened but  _ wonderful _ chill he’d gotten when Jungwoo had whispered by his ear,  _ “You’re a good kisser.” _

Behind him, oblivious to the wreckage he was causing in Taeil’s brain, Jungwoo dozed. An innocent. Taeil  _ still _ wasn’t sure that Jungwoo understood: their next move might burn everything to the ground.

At last, the need for the bathroom and a drink of water drove Taeil to reluctantly leave Jungwoo’s arms. Besides— his phone was dead, but the clock by Jungwoo’s bed said that it was nearly 9 AM, and that meant they would both be needing coffee soon. He slipped out of bed, made a pitstop in the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth and splash his face with cold water, and finally stepped out into the kitchen that still barely felt like his own. It was twice the size of their old one, with a shiny new stove and a double-basin sink right below the east-facing picture window. While he started the coffee maker brewing, he could look out at the rising sun peeking through the Seoul cityscape, instead of the brick wall across the alleyway.

Taeil couldn’t bear to be idle, and so with the coffee maker running, he compulsively grabbed ingredients from the pantry. Flour, sugar, maple syrup: carbs were good for hangovers, he was pretty sure, and waffles were easy enough for his foggy, distracted brain.

Just as the waffle iron was heating, Jungwoo’s slippered feet shuffled their way down the hall, and panic pierced Taeil’s stomach like a knife. The memory of the night before was blissful, but the thought of confronting it… he wasn’t sure that he could. Suddenly, his heart was racing, and he gave half a second’s consideration to hiding back in the bathroom.

But then Jungwoo rounded the corner, and Taeil’s feet froze right where they were. He always looked disheveled in the morning, but it  _ hit differently _ that morning, seeing him standing in the kitchen doorway in his oversized pajamas, his hair mussed and his sweet, dreamy little smile. “Good morning, hyung.”

“Uh… good morning. Coffee’s ready.” Taeil had to remind himself not to look— looking seemed like it would suck him in all over again, and he needed to approach this with a clear head.  _ Maybe Jungwoo won’t say anything at all. Maybe he won’t even remember. Could I possibly be so lucky? _

“Good. I need caffeine. I think I have my first hangover.” Jungwoo made his way across the kitchen, making no effort to keep himself from brushing against Taeil on the way by. He was silent as he poured two mugs, but Taeil could  _ feel _ the younger’s eyes on him, even without looking, and it gave him chills as he poured the first portion of batter into the waffle iron.

“By the way, we are currently fighting,” Jungwoo announced out of nowhere, so suddenly that Taeil wasn’t sure what the fuck he was talking about.

“You and I?” he verified, blinking.

“Yeah. I thought for sure I would have been given a good-morning kiss by now.”

Taeil turned to him at last, unsure what he was hoping to find in Jungwoo’s face— he’d been expecting either anger or scorn, but Jungwoo seemed earnest instead, almost amused. Taeil’s own expression must have been something else entirely, because Jungwoo giggled behind his hand.

“I guess that means I’m not getting one?”

“I— I was trying to figure out the best way to apologize.” Taeil admitted as he turned away again, pretending to be preoccupied with cooking. The waffle was nowhere near done, but he checked it anyway, nearly fucking it up by opening it too soon. “The more I think about last night, the shittier it feels. I’m your manager. I’m older than you, and I’m supposed to know better. It almost feels like I took advantage of you while we were both drunk.”

“I didn’t  _ push you away,” _ Jungwoo pointed out. “You didn’t take advantage of me. I mean— it took me by surprise, but I liked it. I… I think I really like  _ you,  _ hyung.” When Taeil didn’t immediately answer, or even look up, Jungwoo reached out to take his crumpled sleeve and give it a little tug, just as needy for Taeil’s attention as ever.

“You don’t need to defend me, Jungwoo. It  _ was _ stupid.”

“So do you wish you hadn’t done it?” Jungwoo asked quietly, tone indecipherable.

“Not… not really. I don’t know.”

“You sound regretful.”

Taeil’s nerves were unmatched. He wanted to face Jungwoo, and yet he  _ couldn’t.  _ Every muscle was so tense that it was sore, and embarrassingly, he could feel his knees starting to shake. “It’s not as easy as you’re making it out to be! You’re always so short-sighted!” he nearly scolded.

“Short-sighted how? You’d be the  _ easiest  _ person for me to be with. Who’s going to catch us when we  _ live together?”  _ When Taeil finally gathered the nerve to look at him,  _ Jungwoo  _ suddenly felt self-conscious enough to look away, occupying himself by opening up the fridge and pretending to search for the milk that was right in front of him. “We don’t need to commit to anything. We don’t need to make any promises. I just… I think we both need someone right now. I think it would be good for us.”

Jungwoo was right, of course.  _ God, _ he was right, and in an instant he completely obliterated the logical conclusion that Taeil had been trying to talk into himself all morning.

Yeah, it might complicate things eventually, but in that moment, with just the two of them all by themselves in that luxury apartment, with the whole day before them and nothing but  _ time,  _ it was so much easier to give in to temptation. To take  _ Jungwoo’s  _ sleeve this time and pull his attention back, to slide his hands over the taller man’s shoulders just as he’d daydreamed about doing so many times, to let Jungwoo tilt his head back with a tender touch beneath his chin— and with nothing in their system to muddle the purity of this kiss, it was even  _ more  _ perfect than the night before. Jungwoo was once again unapologetically bold, but this time he had muscle memory on his side, and when one fearless hand found its way onto the small of Taeil’s back to pull him in closer— yup, this one checked all the boxes, a certified  _ perfect kiss. _

_ I almost don’t care what else happens.  _ Taeil could feel himself trembling, and Jungwoo giggled when he pulled back, his hand still planted firmly where it was.

“You’re so cute. Am I really making you shake like that?”

“How are  _ you _ not freaking out?”

“Oh, I am. Internally. I’m just really good at hiding it.” Jungwoo laughed softly, brushing Taeil’s bangs out of his face to kiss his forehead; and yes, just as Taeil had always secretly marveled, Jungwoo was the  _ perfect _ height for it. It was so storybook-romantic, and even compared to their heated kisses from the night before, it felt so  _ intimate. _ “Let’s just— let’s just do what feels right, hyung. If we start having second thoughts, we can go back, but right now this feels  _ perfect.” _

And how could Taeil say no to that? Wordlessly, he tilted his head to find Jungwoo’s mouth again, letting the soft, sweet heat drive everything else out of his brain.

The smell of burning was what pulled them apart, and Taeil yanked himself out of Jungwoo’s arms so that he could flip the waffle iron. There was no salvaging that first one, unfortunately, but the moment of laughter when they scraped it into the garbage was pretty priceless. Luckily, everything after that was perfect, down to the coffee— Jungwoo somehow knew exactly how Taeil took it, just from watching him so many times, from  _ caring _ so much. Cleaning up afterwards was hardly even a chore, with every accidental touch between them exploding with electricity.

“Are you going to see your family today?” Jungwoo asked afterwards, drying his hands with a dish cloth while Taeil wiped down the table.

“After everything that just happened? Have you lost your mind?” Taeil laughed quietly, feeling flustered even just from referencing it again. “I’ll see them tomorrow. Today, I don’t want to leave the apartment. I don’t even really want to get  _ dressed.” _

“We can be hermits together! How often do we get a chance like this?” Jungwoo beamed, so  _ genuinely _ happy over something so tiny that Taeil found himself beaming, too. “I’m really feeling like working on lyrics today. You should come sit with me.”

_ Always. No matter where you are, I want to be there, too. _ It was the single sappiest thought that Taeil had ever had, and he swallowed it before he could say it by mistake. “Okay,” he replied simply, but not without a kiss on the cheek that he hoped conveyed the same thing.


	7. 1st Full Album: Press Your Number

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspirations:
> 
> [Press Your Number](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsOGiTSZ_cg) \- Lee Taemin  
> [No](https://youtu.be/-esVWg9_fxA) \- Lee Hyori
> 
> Ayoooo here it finally comes! Been slow going lately (Pregnant Taeil is an excellent distraction, plus... plus something involving Lucas and Taco Bell nacho cheese sauce) but as always... slow and steady @_@
> 
> Follow me on Twitter if you wanna get all my updates from both my sfw and nsfw pseuds! I haven't been as active there lately, but I'll refollow on my main if you tweet cool stuff >u> @AO3RinAngel

_ The camera was shaky, which was par for the course: the best fansite content was from the actual fanmeets, with high-quality cameras and top-tier editing, but no fansite had wanted to bring their best cameras out into the pouring rain. This looked like phone footage, grainy and initially unfocused. _

_ Despite the weather, the crowd roared when the KBS studio doors opened. Jungwoo’s manager stepped out first, opening an umbrella in front of him without flinching at the rain in his face. And then, a second later, Jungwoo himself appeared, model build and imposing frame at odds with his saccharine smile. His hair was bleached, and with the soft halo of smoky makeup circling his dark eyes, he looked nothing short of ethereal. Superhuman. _

_ KBS security kept the crowd subdued so that Jungwoo could move quickly, but he still took the time to smile and wave and throw hearts— and then, halfway down the path to their car, he suddenly took the umbrella from his shorter manager’s hand, realizing how much he had to stretch himself in order to properly shield him. Jungwoo laughed, his manager looked slightly flustered, but a moment later, Jungwoo was slipping a friendly shoulder around his shoulders to pull him under cover with him as they hurried the rest of the way. _

_ Most of the screams were indistinguishable, but there was one that Johnny could make out: “Jungwoo-oppa, you’re so cute!” And the weird thing was, Johnny could attest that he was. In all of the time that he’d been following the idol since his return to Chicago— Jungwoo never failed to make him reminisce about the eighteen year old who had arrived to them at SM Entertainment. Bright-eyed, energetic, empathetic. Gentle in every movement. Naturally flirtatious. He hadn’t changed at all from those days, and in the K-pop industry, that was some feat. _

_ Johnny wondered sometimes, if he weren’t straight, how things could have played out. It was a stupid thing to speculate, an absolutely useless idea, but… yeah, sometimes he wondered. _

//

“So we need to make sure that we have the song and dance all ready by April 2nd, because that’s when we’re scheduled to start filming your reality show,” Taeil dictated wearily, reading off of the calendar on his phone. “April 6th will be another practice day, your MV filming will be on the 7th— then on the 9th, we leave for Jeju for  _ more _ filming, an overnight. We’ll come back the afternoon of the 10th, you have your Nature Republic photoshoot on the 11th, and then an SBS interview on the 12th. _ ” _

“Yuck. This is a lot,” Jungwoo interrupted, looking a little doubtful. “On top of the comeback showcase. I have, like, a billion choreographies to learn still.”

“Yeah, that’s scheduled for April 18th. I’m really sorry. That’s the latest Taeyeon was willing to go.” Taeil reached out to touch Jungwoo’s arm reassuringly, drawing him closer. They were in the recording studio, waiting for Sunyoung to join them, and that warranted a little bit of consolation while Taeil was allowed to give it.

March had been a long month already, balancing a department store ad campaign and a short stint as a survival show mentor with the preparations for his first full-length album. This time, seven of the ten songs on the album had Jungwoo listed in the songwriting credits, and one had been produced by him entirely. Sitting in the production studio beside Jungwoo was bizarre— it was one of the only times where they could be completely alone and yet so focused on their task that they wouldn’t even hold hands.

Taeil would sneak glances at Jungwoo from time to time, thinking about brushing his hair out of his eyes, suppressing the longing to kiss the freckle on his top lip. Jungwoo never looked back. Music was Jungwoo’s first love— and honestly, that fact only made Taeil love him a little more. If he had to pick between music and Jungwoo… well… that would be hard.  _ Very _ hard.

“And then that American tour in June.” Jungwoo groaned a bit in resignation and rubbed his eyes, but he was still smiling weakly when he pulled his hands away. “Take good care of me, hyung. I’m going to be really needy this month.”

“Hey, team! Sorry I’m late, I was waiting for the tech guy to transfer all my old shit to my new hard drive,” Sunyoung piped up as she opened the studio door, her tone cheerful; Jungwoo gave Taeil’s hand a quick, subtle squeeze before pulling away and standing up to greet her.

It was a little strange to see Sunyoung like this, just as Taeil had feared— but of course, professionalism had to come first. Not a personal word was shared until Jungwoo was in the booth warming up his voice, when Sunyoung finally gave Taeil a nudge with her elbow. “You stuck with him? I thought your mind was made up.”

“Yeah… I changed it back,” Taeil replied mysteriously, unable to keep from smiling, his ears burning. Sunyoung was going to figure it out, there was no way she  _ wouldn’t. _

“Ah, yeah? What changed it?” This time, she poked Taeil hard in the ribs, making him squirm away ticklishly. “Don’t tell me it’s what I’m thinking, or I’m going to scream.”

“Don’t—  _ don’t _ make a big deal out of it. It has to stay a secret. Besides, it’s probably not going to  _ be  _ anything.” Taeil kept his eyes on Jungwoo through the glass— in that beloved sweater that they’d been passing back and forth, his hair tied up thoughtlessly in a stubby, messy ponytail to keep his bangs out of his eyes, it was hard for Taeil to look at him  _ without  _ making a big deal about it.

He was happy— _ deliriously _ happy—and he wanted this to last for as long as possible.

Sunyoung grabbed Taeil’s hand and gave it a super-tight squeeze, her grin falling in-line with the chipper persona that Jungwoo had come to know as she addressed him through the mic: “All right, shall we start with  _ Press Your Number,  _ then?”

“Might as well. We need to finish that one today so I can start practicing with the finalized recording sooner rather than later.”

“Okay, you got it! Just give me a second…” She slipped her USB flash drive into the computer for the completed instrumental file, murmuring a simple demand under her breath: “You need to tell me  _ everything,  _ oppa.”

_ “Here?  _ We’re supposed to be paying attention,” Taeil stalled, keeping his voice at a whisper and  _ trying _ to keep his full attention on the task at hand.

“Who kissed who?”

Sunyoung was nothing if not persistent. “I did it,” he confirmed, refusing to look her way.

“How is he in bed, on a scale from one to ten?”

Taeil’s face flooded with heat, but he  _ almost _ cracked a smile. Sunyoung had her priorities in order, as expected. “We haven’t. We’re— taking things slow, I guess.” And that was perfectly fine with Taeil. Their focus had to be elsewhere, they couldn’t afford to let things slip too much into a relationship. Shaking his head suddenly, he added a bit more firmly, “Stop thinking about it. It’s nothing. Honestly, if I ever get transferred somewhere, we’ll never see each other again.”

_ Was it nothing?  _ That was a big, loaded question. It had been scarcely two months, and much of that time had been so stressful and busy. Access to unlimited hugs and kisses when they were back in their apartment was great stress relief, but Taeil was no fool to the way of relationships. This was a novelty, and they were in their honeymoon period, but some day, that would come to an end. Someday, the stress of everything else would be too much, something that couldn’t be kissed away.

He couldn’t picture what that future would be like. He wanted Jungwoo in March as much as he’d wanted him in January. He wasn’t sure that he would ever want Jungwoo any  _ less,  _ and that meant, logically, that it would be  _ Jungwoo _ who eventually aspired for something more.

That was fine, though. No matter what, he didn’t want his uncertainties to bleed into the glimmer of starlight that was Jungwoo. From behind the recording booth glass, his lover smiled, and Taeil smiled back.

_ “Press my number, answer me please, _ _  
_ _ Do it fast, do it slow, you control the tempo, _ __  
_ The feeling, the sound of my heart— _ _  
_ __ I’ll match it with yours.”

//

The rhythm of Jungwoo’s career was jostled by his success. For the first year, things had worked in the predictable schedule that Taeil knew from EXO and Red Velvet: the hard work of promotion prep, peaking with the absolute chaos of filming and music shows, and then finally receding into a period of relative peace and rest. Ever since  _ View  _ promotions, though, they’d been unrelentingly busy, scraping up every possible morsel of work from Jungwoo’s success. So far, Jungwoo had handled the physical and mental exhaustion admirably, but it was a pace that no one could hold forever.

Taeil was stressed  _ (constantly) _ but it was a different sort of pressure to what he imagined Jungwoo was feeling. If they failed, Taeil would be shuffled on to the next artist, expected to forget and start over, just as he had twice before. But Jungwoo— this was his  _ life,  _ from the rise of the sun to whatever time he finally collapsed into his bed at night.

Taeil wouldn’t let that be for nothing. He’d shoulder all the weight that he had to.  _ Just don’t let it be for nothing. _

_ Press Your Number  _ was recorded and ready to go, so Jungwoo’s focus had shifted to the dance— choreographed by Taemin himself. Watching as Taemin demonstrated the dance for the first time, it was both breathtaking and nerve-wracking to behold. Jungwoo was a very good dancer, but his previous choreos had been sharp and energetic; this was more sensual and fluid, and would take a lot of practice to perfect.

This time Jungwoo would have backup dancers,  _ real _ backup dancers, but Taemin wouldn’t be bringing them in until Jungwoo had all the steps down perfectly, and they still had Jungwoo’s filming schedule to contend with. That was a whole other layer of pressure, and Taeil knew from the moment that they stepped into the practice room that it would become a headache. Taemin was a great dancer, but he was pushy and demanding, an overwhelming perfectionist. Jungwoo had come to both love and hate him, depending on the day; Taeil, decidedly, had never been fond of him.

“Again. Start from the bridge,” Taemin ordered as he rewound the track, eyes never leaving Jungwoo. Now that his charge was the biggest name that SM Entertainment had, Taemin could no longer duck out when he wanted to go home— it was shortly past 11 PM, the six hour mark. Jungwoo’s face was flushed and sweaty, with a headband that did nothing to tame his unruly blond hair.

The bridge restarted. Jungwoo fell back into position, hitting each movement with precision. It was better than it had started, but it still didn’t look as smooth and fluid as Taemin’s version had, and when Jungwoo had to spin to the floor, his thighs were shaking too intensely to push himself back up in time.

“Don’t lose focus, Jungwoo. Again.”

Taeil had stopped working some time ago, transfixed by the scene in front of him. At first, admittedly, it had been with quiet adoration: he wasn’t sure when he’d really started noticing the alluring curves of the idol’s legs, or thinking about the ease with which Jungwoo could probably pin him into the mattress, and once he’d seen it he could no longer  _ un- _ see it. But as time went by and Jungwoo began to show the failings of his body, the impending weakness, it made Taeil feel a little sick to his stomach to watch passively. He’d demanded a break once, just past 9, which Jungwoo had seemed grateful for, but he’d jumped back to practicing after a drink and a splash of water across his forehead. 

“Just like that. That was perfect. One more time, so you don’t forget.”

Taking his starting position again, Jungwoo was shaking visibly, and Taeil reached out to touch Taemin’s arm. “Wait— stop for a second. Give him time to breathe.”

Taemin had scarcely turned to argue back when Jungwoo broke from his stance, running on trembling legs for the door of the practice room where the small trashcan was located, and nobody had time to speak before he was on his knees, heaving up water.

It tugged at Taeil’s heartstrings in a way that it never had before. He’d seen members of Red Velvet faint or get sick, and of course it made him feel pity for them, but it didn’t stir the same deep protective instincts that Jungwoo did. His heart raced, and it was hard for him to swallow the saliva in his throat.

“Hyung,” Taeil spoke up at last, his voice sounding loud to his own ears. “We need to call it quits tonight. I don’t think you’re going to make any progress like this. Jungwoo’s pushed himself too hard.”

“We still have the end to neaten up. The dance team will be here tomorrow afternoon, and I expect that Jungwoo will be dancing this just as perfectly as I do,” Taemin replied in his icy way, watching impassively as Jungwoo wiped his face with his shirt.

“If he keeps this up much longer, what use will he be to you tomorrow?” Taeil countered, catching his voice break and hoping that nobody noticed. Grabbing Jungwoo’s water bottle from his pile of possessions on the floor, he made his way over to him and dropped onto his knees beside him. “Jungwoo, here. Drink some water. We’re done for tonight.”

“But I’m not done.” Jungwoo’s hands fumbled with the bottle cap, gripping tight to finally open it. “I’m just going to finish, we just have to do the end—”

Taeil felt a spike of irritation, and he clenched his hands into fists as he broke in more abruptly than he’d meant to: “We have the choreography video. We’ll come early tomorrow. We’ll be ready when the dancers get here.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” Taemin shrugged, though clearly, he was excited for the invitation to leave, already gathering his jacket and bag. “Just make sure you put in the work tomorrow. If you embarrass me…” He trailed off, a vague threat as he looked from Jungwoo to Taeil.

“We won’t, hyung. I’m sorry.” Still on his knees, Jungwoo bowed his head and kept it lowered until Taemin had passed him by on the way out. When the practice room door closed, at last, Jungwoo buried his face in his hands and broke down into quiet tears. “I can’t believe you, hyung.”

“What?!” Reflexively, Taeil moved back, giving Jungwoo a bit more space to piece himself back together. “Angry with me? Jungwoo, you can barely stand. How much more practice could you do in this state?”

“We’d almost finished. I could have made it,” he replied stubbornly, voice tight with anger. “You had no right to make that call.”

“I’m your manager. I had  _ every _ right to make that call.”

“You’re my manager, which means you’re supposed to push me,” Jungwoo argued back, finally feeling strong enough to drag himself back to his feet. “Don’t baby me, don’t hold me back. I want you to manage me just like you’d manage any other artist. Don’t manage me like I’m your boyfriend.”

The word made Taeil’s throat choke up with dread.  _ Boyfriend _ was a word that they’d both tip-toed around for the entire duration of their relationship. They were artist and manager before anything else; the hugs and kisses and cuddles that they shared in their off-time had seemed completely removed from the people that they had to be during the day.

_ Boyfriend  _ sounded so nice, though.  _ Boyfriend _ made Taeil want to pull Jungwoo into his arms, cradle him against his chest, and kiss the tears off of his face. He stood himself, wringing his hands to try and dispel the urge to grab Jungwoo’s. “Okay,” he agreed quietly, tearing his eyes off of Jungwoo and looking to the clock. 11:40 PM. “Then let me make a request, as your manager, that you come home. Because if you make yourself sick and miss schedules in the future, it’s going to create a big headache for me. Okay?”

“I’m not going to fuck anything up. You don’t have to worry,” Jungwoo bit back harshly, and to Taeil’s surprise, he led the way to the door with a fresh burst of speed.

“Jungwoo— stop—”

“You wanted to go, so can’t we just go? I’m hungry.”

_ Ahh.  _ The time when Jungwoo’s temper ran thinnest. Taeil knew not to take it personally, but his body didn’t, evidenced by the uncomfortable feeling sitting like a rock in his stomach. Best to get Jungwoo fed, and worry about everything else later. When he started the car, Jungwoo turned the radio on, cranked the volume, and leaned his head against the window instead of singing along.

A music video shoot on the horizon meant that Jungwoo’s diet was back in effect. While he quietly ate his ration of kimchi and vegetables, not even bothering to sit down to do so, Taeil returned to his bedroom. Lay on his bed with his coat still on. Thought about showering, didn’t.

_ I just want him to be okay. Even if we weren’t doing this stupid thing, I would want him to be okay. He’s too pure to be chewed up and spit out by these people. _ It made him feel terrible to think, but Jungwoo was just  _ different  _ to him than Baekhyun or Kai or Seulgi or Yeri. And even when their paths parted, he always would be.

_ When. _ Fuck. It made Taeil go dizzy, made his head throb in time with his pulse.  _ Am I having a brain aneurysm? Please. Come and take me away. _

“Hyung?”

Taeil wasn’t expecting to hear any more from Jungwoo that night, but when he forced himself to sit up, the idol was standing in his doorway in his pajamas. He offered a weak smile, bowed lowly in the way of a person begging forgiveness— and without another word spoken, Taeil burst into tears of helpless frustration. Taeil almost never cried anymore. And for that reason, breaking down and  _ sobbing  _ almost always brought forth a distinctive flash of memory.

The sight of an electric keyboard smashed clean in half, the floor littered with sheet music torn like streamers. The pounding of his head after the third time it smashed against the hardwood floor, one discernible moment amongst a chaotic mess of screams:  _ You’re not going anywhere, you fucking faggot. You’re going to learn some respect. _

And then there were Jungwoo’s arms tight around him, Jungwoo’s voice in his ear, words that took him several seconds to begin decoding: “...just keep hoping that things get better, but every step of the way, everything gets so much harder. I don’t want to disappoint you, hyung. That’s the reason why, and I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. Please, please,  _ please…” _

“I’m sorry,” Taeil’s voice was a breathless sob, which only made him hate himself more. “I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“It doesn’t  _ feel _ okay,” Jungwoo whispered, tucking Taeil’s head safely beneath his chin, face against his chest. His heart was quick, but steady, and Taeil found himself counting the beats as he struggled through stilted breaths. “I don’t want to fight with you. Especially because I know you’re right.” Taeil didn’t answer— the only answer he could think of was the most sensible one, and it had become his worst fear:  _ Let’s step back, then. Let’s go back to how it was. _ But before he could decide what to do, Jungwoo spoke again: “I don’t hate when you treat me like your boyfriend. I actually really like it.”

The words were like a shot of morphine, and finally,  _ finally,  _ Taeil’s mind went still.  _ I really like it, too. I want to take care of you. I want to give you the world, because you deserve it. _ Still, it was easier to lay silent, eyes closed, and focus on the steady drumbeat in Jungwoo’s chest, the beat that drove him. Taeil took in a trembling breath, his whole body overtaken with warmth when Jungwoo kissed his forehead. He finally found the strength to move, and he wrapped his arms around Jungwoo’s shoulders, hiding his face for one more moment in his neck and breathing him in.

“You’re just really important to me. That’s all. I know it wasn’t professional of me, but I couldn’t help it.” He breathed slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry. Starting tomorrow, I’ll start treating you objectively anytime we’re not in this apartment, okay?”

“Mm. That’s probably for the best.” Jungwoo’s gave him another tight squeeze, another kiss on Taeil’s forehead that just about sedated him. “Stay just like this when we’re alone, though, okay? I love this.”

Taeil blushed, and prolonged the hug a bit more to let the worst of it fade before pulling back. If there was anything he hated, it was the  _ shame _ that came after crying. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, forcing professionalism once again despite himself. “You looked really bad in the practice room. It scared me.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay, hyung.” Jungwoo tilted Taeil’s head up gently, smiling faintly as he wiped the older’s tears. “You didn’t eat, so I started some rice for you. Go have dinner, so we can sleep together.”

Two seconds of uncomfortable silence. Taeil blushed immediately; Jungwoo took a moment before his own words registered with him, and his own ears burned bright red.

“I-In the same bed, I mean. I won’t feel right again until we cuddle.”

Didn’t matter, the image was already in Taeil’s head: Jungwoo’s hands all over him, their bare bodies pressed together, his mouth—  _ no. Oh my god, I’m so overtired, I’m delirious. _ “I knew what you meant,” he replied almost defensively, stealing a kiss from Jungwoo’s lips to regain some sense of control. “Stay here and relax. I’m going to go eat and pack our bags for tomorrow.”

“Okay. Be quick, cutie.”

_ “Stop that.” _ Taeil scolded, but the heat that flooded his face all over again made Jungwoo grin from ear to ear. No, the stress wasn’t good for anybody— but he supposed they’d get through like they always did.

//

Recording reality shows was a strange process. While the footage would be edited down into easily digestible twenty-minute blocks, the filming days were often long and exhausting. It didn’t help that being in front of the cameras by himself made Jungwoo nervous and uncomfortable, no matter how many times he did it. “I’m not funny by myself,” he would complain, “What am I going to do for sixteen episodes  _ by myself?  _ Half of each episode is just going to be me standing there, smiling, and wondering what to say.”

“You’re charming. You’ll think of something,” Taeil had assured him, though to be honest, he understood Jungwoo’s fear. He’d wanted to be an idol once, but only to sing: standing in front of the cameras by himself, charming audiences with improv, sounded like something of a nightmare to him.

“So basically, each episode will be its own challenge, and you’ll have to guess your task based on these clues that production wrote up,” Taeil detailed, flipping through the mission cards absently as Jungwoo submitted to the poking and prodding of the makeup noona, Soojung, who was dolling him up with baby-pink lip cream. “Today’s missions are pretty straightforward. Cooking bibimbap. Painting a self-portrait. Learning a girl group dance medley. Oh, pretend you don’t know about any of these, by the way.”

_ “Hyung, _ don’t help me cheat,” Jungwoo joked, trying not to move his mouth too much until Soojung pulled away. “Hey, are you going to be the one reading me the hints?”

“I mean— yeah.” Taeil suddenly felt uncomfortable with the sinister smirk on Jungwoo’s lips. “Don’t give me that look. I’m going to be behind the camera.  _ Don’t give me that look.” _

_ “Hyuuuuuung!” _ Why was Jungwoo such a  _ natural _ when it came to aegyo?! Not only was he good at it, but he knew how to weaponize it. And it  _ sucked. _ “You have a lot of fans, you know! Someone on Twitter even scavenged up your information and made you a profile!” (Taeil knew about this already— the profile put his estimated height at 168 cm, which also  _ sucked.) _ “It would be a  _ big _ draw if you were mic-ed and on camera with me! Feed your hungry fans! We’ll give them all kinds of cute interactions!”

Taeil nearly protested without thought. But then he stopped, thought about it.  _ Fans. _ Never in a million years had he guessed that he’d have fans, but a part of him had always wanted them.  _ For my voice, though. Not for this. All of these people just love me for loving Jungwoo. _ The thought made his stomach clench in uncertainty. “I don’t know about that. I don’t think I’d look good next to you on camera, anyway…”

“Aww. What do you mean?”

Taeil laughed nervously. “I mean… picture a perfectly groomed, prize-winning show horse standing next to a donkey that’s covered in manure and flies.”

_ “What?” _ Jungwoo scoffed, brows furrowing— drawing an exasperated sigh from Soojung, who had been centimeters from his eyebrow with a loaded makeup brush. “No, no, no. None of that. Noona, you have BB cream that matches Taeil hyung’s skin tone, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Soojung looked up to Taeil with that critical eye of hers. “Yeah, of course. He’s not that much lighter than you.” And then, with the beginnings of a sly smile, she added, “I could do a nice, natural look on you. It wouldn’t take long. You have a pretty face.”

Jungwoo quickly clapped his hands in excitement, his face lighting up. Taeil couldn’t  _ take _ that blinding smile— he looked at himself, instead, in the mirror. Average, he’d always thought. Maybe a little on the ugly side, with a bad smile and a face that stayed round no matter what he ate, but Sunyoung insisted that he was cute, so he supposed he wasn’t as disgusting as he sometimes felt. “Can we try it?” Jungwoo pleaded, drawing his eyes back. “At least see what you’d look like with the makeup, and if you don’t like it, you can take it off and hide behind the camera. But, y’know, makeup gives confidence. I don’t really love my face without makeup, either.”

Taeil smiled weakly. Jungwoo had told him that before: he thought his nose was too big, and the reason he always hid his teeth on camera was because he was self-conscious of their unevenness. Taeil loved all the little quirks of his face, and wished he could tell him so— but he did the next best thing that he could think of, he put on a brave face and managed a smile.

“Okay. I’ll give it a try.” Taeil took a seat in the empty styling chair beside Jungwoo, waiting while Soojung put the final touches on the idol’s face. He could still see the faint shadows of dark circles under Jungwoo’s eyes, but that was just a job hazard— and he was still a brilliant work of art when he smiled.

“You’re the best, hyung.” Across the space between them, somewhere below Soojung’s gaze, Jungwoo took Taeil’s hand, and they both squeezed tight.

//

It was always embarrassing, to find himself dozing off when Jungwoo was hard at work, but at least this time, he felt like he had a valid excuse. They’d both been up since 4 AM that day; the filming for Jungwoo’s show had involved waking him up with cameras in the room to show his “morning routine”, which of course meant waking up an hour before  _ that  _ and putting on some BB cream and lip tint. The fans wouldn’t get the view that Taeil absolutely loved: Jungwoo stirring slowly, stretching and rubbing his swollen eyes awake, bleary and bewildered and soft.

Then they’d filmed all morning before heading to the dance studio at Jungwoo’s insistence. Taemin wasn’t there, but Jungwoo insisted that his dance could always be cleaner, and his video shoot was only a day and a half away.

So late in the afternoon, while Jungwoo was hard at work, sweating in front of the practice room mirrors, Taeil was roused from an impromptu nap against the back wall by his phone buzzing against his thigh. Shaking himself awake, he fished for it and stumbled to his feet so that he could step out into the quiet hallway. “H-Hello?”

_ “Taeil.”  _ Taeyeon’s voice was unmistakable through the phone speaker, and unconsciously he straightened his back and rubbed his eyes, as though she would be able to see him.  _ “How are things going in preparation for the music video? Is Jungwoo confident?” _

“I think he’s ready. He’s been practicing non-stop. It almost scares me, to be honest.”

_ “Excellent.” _ Her answer was so quick, and yet so breezy and unweighted, that he knew she hadn’t heard a single word that he’d said.  _ “A Nature Republic rep tried to reach out to you, but he said you didn’t answer your phone, so he called the office’s main line instead. He wanted to confirm that Jungwoo is still attending the press conference on Wednesday morning.” _

“Wednesday—” Taeil barely even knew what day it was, for a moment, but when he considered— Monday, it was Monday. And Jungwoo’s MV shoot was in two days. “Jungwoo is filming his music video on Wednesday. We’re supposed to get there no later than 10 AM, that’s what we agreed upon with the director.” He felt a sudden spike of anxiety.  _ How could I have made this mistake? I’m getting careless. Fuck.  _ “What press conference do you mean? They never mentioned a press conference.”

_ “Taeil, this is important. Contact the director and styling team and let them know that you’ll be late for the video shoot. Everyone can stay late in the evening, if need be. I’ll make sure they’re all compensated. The press conference is at 9 AM, but Jungwoo will need to show up styled, so be sure to book someone for makeup that morning.” _

It would be a long day, that was for sure. Arriving at a press conference at 9 meant sitting for makeup at 7:00 or earlier— and that meant waking up no later than 6 AM. Then, considering that they’d have to drive halfway across Seoul and arrive at the set late, considering that Jungwoo would have to have his makeup removed and redone, considering this was a big-name director and an ambitious concept… if Taeil hadn’t been tired before, he was suddenly  _ exhausted,  _ just a husk of a human. Why was every day so packed?

_ “Taeil?” _

“I’m here. Sorry,” he blurted out, blushing even though he was alone. “I’m sorry, President-nim. I’m going to take care of everything.”

_ “I know that this is a lot on your plate, but I’m counting on you to keep Jungwoo moving. There will be a full break for both of you after these promotions— and a significant bonus for you if everything goes well. Keep your eye on the prize.” _

A bonus for Taeil, as though he were the one who deserved it? He nearly laughed, but kept composed anyway. He  _ had _ to. “Okay. I understand. I won’t let you down. We’re both going to work hard.”

_ “I know I can count on you. Keep me updated if there are any problems.” _

Taeil sighed as he hung up, leaning back against the wall for a second. This was a nightmare, but a  _ temporary  _ nightmare. Fame was fleeting. They had to keep chasing it, or it would outrun Jungwoo before his time.  _ This is the industry. We both knew what we were getting into. _

When he stepped back into the practice room, the music had been turned off and Jungwoo was sprawled out on the floor by Taeil’s bag, munching on one of the snacks that he’d packed to get them through the day. Before Taeil could even think to say anything about their schedule change, Jungwoo piped up with a grin, “Why do you slice up all my fruit for me like you’re packing a bento box for an elementary school student?”

“I— I don’t know! You never complained about it before, so I just kept doing it?” Taeil was instantly distracted by the burning sensation that flooded up his neck.

“I’m not complaining about it. I just think it’s funny how naturally you baby me.”

“Well, you make people want to baby you.” Taeil smiled subtly, sitting a safe and platonic distance from Jungwoo, not even letting their knees brush. Letting go of physical affection took some thought when they were in public together. Luckily, verbal affection was still on the table, and Jungwoo had gotten Taeil quite good at it. “Because you’re a baby. I’ll probably keep doing it until…”

Until the end, he supposed. Whenever that was.

“Until I’m not a baby anymore?” Jungwoo suggested cheekily, bracing himself with a sudden hand on Taeil’s knee and leaning in for a kiss. It caught Taeil so off-guard that he froze, long enough for Jungwoo to nip at Taeil’s bottom lip harshly before he could tug back.

“H-Hey! What happened to wanting to be professional in the company building?!”

“No one’s around. There’s barely anybody here this late, except trainees, and what the fuck are  _ they _ gonna do about it?” Jungwoo answered indignantly, sitting back to sip his water and shove another apple slice in his mouth. “Besides— I’m  _ not  _ a baby.”

There was a moment of pointed silence, where Jungwoo looked at him almost expectantly, a little smile playing on his lips—  _ Wait. He’s not trying to hint at that, is he?  _ If kissing Jungwoo was a violation, then doing anything more was just plain unethical, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about it. (And dreamed about it, once, and woke up to the guiltiest boner of his life, but that was beside the point.)

“Well— um—” Taeil cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly brought back to the more pressing matter at hand: “Taeyeon just called. I need to make some changes to your schedule. You have a press conference for Nature Republic on Wednesday morning. It’s going to be a long day.”

“Wednesday— wait, before my video shoot?” Jungwoo’s brows furrowed in doubt, and he sighed. “You’re going to have to spoil the shit out of me to make up for it. I can do it, but only with lots and  _ lots _ of extra love.”

_ Love.  _ Another word that made Taeil’s heart flutter these days— Jungwoo’s confidence in him, in  _ them,  _ gave him an extra burst of energy. Enough for him to swallow his fear and lean in for one more kiss.

“Don’t I always?”

Love. Maybe that was the word for it.

//

Taeil woke up even earlier than anticipated on the day of the filming: naturally, without an alarm, at 4:30 in the morning. His stomach was in knots, and for a few dreadful moments, he worried that the need to get sick had woken him. He didn’t want a repeat of the  _ Touch  _ MV shoot, all he could picture was himself nearly collapsing into that camera— he forced himself to focus on Jungwoo’s soft breaths against his neck, his arm thrown around Taeil’s waist, the comfortable warmth of his body. The responsible thing would have been to either wake up and start moving or go back to sleep, but instead he did the indulgent thing: closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and simply let Jungwoo hold him until their alarm went off

When they loaded into the car after the press conference, it was already past 10 AM, and Taeil was really regretting not getting that extra hour of sleep. He felt like he’d already worked a full day, when they still had a long afternoon ahead of them; he nearly joked about it with Jungwoo, but glancing over at him, he decided not to. Jungwoo had woken up solemn and had been quiet at the conference: he looked handsome in his suit and makeup but absent in the eyes, only managing the smallest smile for the cameras flashing.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Taeil guessed, glancing over at him as he fastened his seatbelt. “Told you you should have come to bed at midnight. Wasn’t just because I wanted to cuddle, you know.”

“I never sleep well these days,” Jungwoo admitted softly, unaffected by Taeil’s attempt at a joke as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest. “I’m tired, but I can’t sleep.”

“There are caffeine supplements in my bag, but you shouldn’t take them on an empty stomach,” Taeil invited, attention turned to backing out quickly and safely. It would take them nearly an hour to get to the studio where the director and staff were all waiting; and he knew that it was a necessary delay, but  _ god,  _ did he hate keeping people waiting. “Eat something, too. You’ll need to keep your strength up.”

Jungwoo’s eyes didn’t open, but his brow twitched in distaste. “I don’t want to eat. Thinking about eating makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Are you nervous?” Taeil asked, slightly surprised. If there was one thing that Jungwoo never seemed hesitant about, it was performing. Nerves kicked in before live interviews and particularly embarrassing variety segments, but dancing and performing came as second nature.

“I don’t know. I—” Jungwoo shook his head quickly, giving him a small smile. Was it the ill-matched BB cream lightening his skin that made him feel so ghostly? “Don’t worry about me, hyung. Just drive. I’m going to see if I can nap until we get there.”

Taeil pulled out safely onto the highway before he reached over to brush the back of his hand against Jungwoo’s cheek. “You’re warm,” he observed quietly.

“That’s ‘cuz I’m blushing, ‘cuz you’re touching my face.” Jungwoo remarked dryly. He took the sort of sarcastic tone that it was hard for Taeil to decipher, and despite the time crunch they were on, he wanted more than anything to pull over to the side of the highway, force Jungwoo to look him in the eye and promise him that he was really, truly okay— but then Jungwoo erased the notion when he grabbed Taeil’s smaller hand in his own and kissed his knuckles. “Hush, now, will you? Although I’m flattered that you’re so worried for me.”

Then he slipped Taeil’s phone out of his pocket, synced it up to the car’s Bluetooth, and picked a song: “No”, Lee Hyori.  _ Tears dry, time stops.  _ Deep, steady breaths. There was no room for anxiety, no room for  _ emotion.  _ He held Jungwoo’s hand anyway, trying to focus his attention on the endearing way that he fiddled with Taeil’s fingers so that he wouldn’t worry so much about everything else.

When they arrived at the studio, the entire staff was set up to go, and Taeil could feel the pent-up, nervous energy the moment that Jungwoo was swept into styling. Nobody wanted to stay later than they had to, especially when the shoot was already bound to run into the evening. Jungwoo seemed disoriented, though, and even the makeup artist commented on the pallor of his cheeks.

“I’m always this pale without makeup. That’s where you guys come in,” Jungwoo joked lightly, keeping his eyes closed as concealer was dotted onto the worst of his scars and blemishes. It was a blatant lie, one that Taeil caught immediately: he’d spent enough time studying Jungwoo’s face to know that without makeup and filters, he was far from pale.

“Don’t forget to stay hydrated. It’s going to be a long day,” Taeil warned softly, trying to keep the concern out of his voice as he placed a water bottle beside him— a protein bar, too, but Jungwoo blanched even more when he fumbled around it, as though the idea of food still made him queasy. He drank instead, little sips in between the steps of his makeup application.

Taeil wished that he could get himself excited for the shoot before them. No doing aegyo into the camera this time, no sprawling half-dressed across the hoods of cars, and  _ god forbid,  _ no kissing any actresses. This was a  _ high concept _ MV: fashionable clothes, makeup designed to make him look like a glamorous piece of Renaissance art, intricate and immaculate sets. The climax would be a solo dance break, performed on a lit dance floor covered by a thin layer of water, sure to be a striking visual. This was what Jungwoo wanted to do, this was the art that he’d trained for years to have realized— but he looked half-dazed as Kibum helped to dress him, scolding him as he yanked Jungwoo’s skin-tight leather pants up at his hips: “Stand up straight, will you? Help me help you. Why do you look like a zombie?”

“‘M not,” Jungwoo snapped back, rubbing his eye for half a second before he caught himself and lowered his hand. The damage had already been done, though, and the makeup artist was visibly exasperated as she stepped in to fix his eyeliner.

_ Because he’s sick, _ Taeil wanted to point out, but he kept his mouth shut, his teeth dug into his tongue for extra reinforcement. When  _ he’d _ been sick at the  _ Touch  _ MV shoot all those months ago, Jungwoo had been such a sweetheart, going above and beyond to take care of him; but a manager was not an idol, and his first priority had to be the job in front of him, no matter how heartless it made him look.  _ Just keep drinking, _ he pleaded mentally, watching Jungwoo sit down and tie his boots with trembling hands.

When he took his place in the center of the floor - outfit on, hair styled, makeup impeccable, flanked by the dancers wearing masks to leave all the focus on the soloist before them - Jungwoo looked so  _ powerful,  _ and for a moment, it was enough to make Taeil forget his worries. This was full immersion into the fantasy: Jungwoo was a beautiful, charismatic enigma of a man, and Taeil was stricken feverish with the desire to kneel before him and worship, no better than a fan himself.

_ Except— I think— he’s mine. _ Another layer to it all, one that made Taeil’s mind go mushy with desire. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?

Jungwoo’s close-up lipsyncing shots were quick work, and turned out lovely despite his pallor and his shaking hands, but when they moved into the dance shots, Taeil found his nerves amping up once more. Jungwoo made it through exactly three takes; he was spot-on while the music was playing, perfect steps, perfect expression, but when the director called cut to change the positioning of a dancer or get a better angle, he’d slump with his hands braced on his knees, breathing heavy and looking artificially pale beneath his makeup. And then— just as the director called for Jungwoo to return to his place for yet another take, Jungwoo slumped all the way forward, body limp, colliding hard with the floor. The dancers around him sprung back in surprise, not knowing what to do, but Taeil was too panicked to be annoyed as he hurried to Jungwoo’s side.

_ Professional. Jungwoo wouldn’t want anything less.  _ Still, his voice was harsh and clipped with an emotion that he knew he shouldn’t have been feeling: “Give us some space, please. Can someone get some water for him?” He shifted Jungwoo easily onto his back— his makeup and hair still ironically perfect, even half-conscious and too weak to sit up. “Jungwoo, can you hear me?”

“Hyung,” Jungwoo mumbled out the word lowly, eyelids twitching but not opening. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Taeil’s voice quaked on the edge of breaking, and he fumbled with the unopened water bottle in his hands, trying to crack the seal for him. Jungwoo sat up slowly, with one of the dancers supporting him with a hand on his back, but his eyes seemed to fade again the moment his body straightened up. “Don’t try to stand up too quickly.”

_ I want to take you to the hospital. _ The thought rose in Taeil’s throat, but before he could decide whether or not to say it, the director was speaking up behind them, exasperated: “We’ve barely gotten anything done. Can you have him eat and be ready again in ten minutes? This crew has spent enough time waiting around this morning.”

“I’ll be ready. I’m sorry,” Jungwoo spoke up with surprising strength as he swallowed the water in his mouth. “Hyung— can you help me back to my dressing room? I can walk, I’m sure. I just need some help standing up.”

“Jungwoo, are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

“Mm. I think I have some Powerade in my bag. I’m probably just dehydrated,” Jungwoo excused simply. Taeil stood first, helping Jungwoo to his feet with the help of a dancer, but it wasthe manager’s shoulder that Jungwoo leaned on as they made their way to the back.

“Jungwoo—”

“Sorry. I knew I should have eaten, but I was nervous,” Jungwoo confessed when they were mostly alone. It would be hard to eat in full makeup without needing touchups - another setback - but when Taeil grabbed him some crackers and fruit from the catering table, he took the little paper plate with trembling hands. “I was bloated during my fitting last week,” he confessed at last, voice small as he took tiny nibbles of a slice of cheese. “Kibum-hyung was worried about me fitting into these pants, so I was anxious about it all day yesterday, and this morning, just—  _ ugh.  _ I’m going to have to start watching my weight.”

Taeil felt a stab of sadness, a flare of anger, and they both burned him from the inside out. “You don’t diet by starving yourself,” he snapped quietly. The room wasn’t empty - there were stylists arranging products, dancers taking the opportunity to check their makeup and get drinks— and that frustrated Taeil more than anything.  _ I wish we were alone. I want to hug him. I feel so fucking sick. _ “You should know better than that by now. This is a physical job. You need  _ something  _ in your system. And I just—” He had to watch himself, had to try to keep himself unaffected; he looked down at the table instead of at Jungwoo, drumming his fingertips against the smooth surface as he decided quietly, “I’m going to clear your schedule for tomorrow, and you’re going to rest.”

“Hyung,  _ no—” _

“It’s just practice, no filming. Practice can be made up,” Taeil interrupted firmly. “This isn’t me playing favorites, or— or  _ whatever _ you think it is. You need to take care of yourself during promotions, because it’s like you said, it  _ only gets harder.  _ And that was really fucking scary.” He was still shaking— couldn’t Jungwoo see that?

“Taeil hyung,” Jungwoo his name so softly that Taeil ignored it, at first, but then his hand crept across the table to take Taeil’s, long fingers folding easily around Taeil’s thin hand. “I’m sorry. Here, look—” And Taeil  _ did _ look, just in time to see Jungwoo shove an entire cracker in his mouth at once. The  _ absurdity  _ of the moment, amidst all the tension, nearly made Taeil laugh.

“Stop that. Just… eat. We’ll talk later,” he scolded softly, closing his eyes for a moment of pseudo-rest amidst the pure exhaustion. “And don’t mess up your makeup,” he added, reaching out delicately to pick a crumb off of Jungwoo’s upper lip.

“You’re mad,” Jungwoo mumbled through his full mouth. It was hard to tell, but he sounded almost tentative, and the sad sort of shimmer in his eyes was hard to bear.

“This is just… harder than I thought. That’s all.” Taeil attempted to smile, because being mad at Jungwoo felt unfair— but just like always, when he smiled without meaning it, he could feel that it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t mad at Jungwoo, he was mad at all the circumstances surrounding them.

It was hard not to wish that they could go back to just the two of them. The day he’d kissed him, and the day after, no schedules, no prying eyes, that had made things seem unrealistically  _ easy. _ But this was their reality, a reality where eyes followed them all the time. A reality where, in the face of difficulty, Taeil might have no choice but to stand back and wait for Jungwoo to reach for his hand. It was a mild sting, at first, but the more he thought about it, the more that it became excruciating.

//

“I’m gonna go on Vlive for a few minutes. Then I’m done for the night.”

That was the sweetest of promises, especially in the frazzled headspace that Taeil found himself in that evening. The day had been packed with travel in the morning, from Seoul to Jeju for Jungwoo’s reality show, and the afternoon was busy with sightseeing: a forest hike, a beach trip, and a nice dinner in Jeju City at the very end, all with cameras in their faces. Admittedly, it was hard for Taeil to be comfortable when he knew that he was being filmed, but Jungwoo made it all fun, hamming up his personality and letting Taeil play the straight man to his goofiness even more than usual.

When they arrived back at their hotel, Taeil was anxious to unwind and rest, and Jungwoo urged him to take his turn showering while he streamed— “It’s been awhile since I’ve talked to the fans, and I want to do it while I still have my makeup on.”

“You’re really not tired?” Taeil marveled, shaking his head faintly as he popped open his suitcase to grab a change of clothes. “Keep it short. You’ve been running yourself into the ground lately, and promotions haven’t even started yet!”

“Yes, hyung! One  _ short little _ Vlive, and then I’m  _ all yours,” _ Jungwoo vowed, grinning, and Taeil tried not to smile too much himself.

The shower was much needed— showers were some of the only quiet alone time that he found during the day, to the point that he no longer even listened to music the way he’d once used to. The mind-cleansing white noise of water against tile was all that he needed, and the ability to detach his brain from everything else seemed to him the ultimate in luxury. It was only when the heat began to fade from the water that he realized he couldn’t stand there all night, and he reluctantly shut things down and pulled some pajamas onto himself— or rather, a pair of pajama shorts with one of Jungwoo’s old, faded t-shirts.

Sometimes Taeil felt like Jungwoo’s manager, other times he felt like his boyfriend, and most days the ruling fell somewhere in between. Wearing his clothes definitely pushed things more to the  _ boyfriend _ side, though, and all at once he was stricken with the strangest sense of  _ missing _ the man that he’d spent the entire day following around, the one who lay in the next room waiting for him.

“I’m really not that tired— I mean, my body’s tired, but my mind isn’t,” Jungwoo was stating into his phone camera, his statement directly at odds with the bags under his eyes. The video shoot from hell had been two days ago, and even though Taeil had cleared his schedule for a day of rest before coming to Jeju, Jungwoo had spent the day in the studio anyway, insisting that producing was not nearly as much strain as dancing. “Busy is good, though. I go crazy if I’m not busy. And I have the world’s best manager taking the world’s best care of me, so nobody should worry!” The movement of Taeil’s body in the doorway made Jungwoo glance over from where he lay in bed, cracking a warm smile; when he looked back at the Vlive comments, he couldn’t keep from giggling. “It’s nothing, my manager just came in as I was talking about him! … No, you can’t see him right now! I can’t share him with you guys  _ all the time!  _ He’s mine!” (Taeil sighed in relief— no more cameras, at least not until tomorrow.) “We do need to go to sleep, though. We’re waking up really early tomorrow to film more. I think you’re really going to like my show! We’re having a blast here in Jeju!”

Jungwoo was so naturally charming in front of the cameras, even tired as he was— his charisma made Taeil feel warm and fuzzy just watching from afar. He kept his distance as Jungwoo threw one more finger heart, puckered his lips for one more air kiss, and signed off the broadcast. Then, smirking, he reached towards Taeil with both arms and made a grabbing motion with his fingers.

“Mine. Come here.”

Taeil smiled faintly, stopping to unzip Jungwoo’s suitcase on the way to the bed and fetching his makeup removal wipes. “Relax. We can’t sleep just yet, you’ll break out with all that shit on your face. Besides… you know I think you’re the prettiest barefaced.” Kneeling beside his lover on the mattress, he plucked a wipe from the package and began to strip the remains of concealer and BB cream from Jungwoo’s skin. The artificial pale peachiness gave way in seconds to natural tan, and Taeil couldn’t resist kissing Jungwoo’s forehead before tossing the dirtied wipe and curling up in the warm space beside him.

“Romantic here, isn’t it?” Jungwoo whispered into the still air between them, eyes closed gently against the lamp light. “But there were cameras on us practically from the time we woke up. And now that we have some privacy, we’re both too tired to properly enjoy it.” Even so, Jungwoo ran his hand cheekily over the curve of Taeil’s waist as he spoke, coming to an innocuous rest on his ass.

“I know. I wasn’t really ready for it,” Taeil confessed with a tiny laugh, locking his fingers together behind Jungwoo’s neck as he hid his blushing face in his shoulder. “I feel so uncomfortable in front of the cameras. That’s a big part of why I’m not an idol in the first place.”

“You did well, though, hyung.” Jungwoo’s hand slid back up, almost absentmindedly— perhaps not realizing how breathtakingly sensual his fingers felt at the base of Taeil’s spine, even through his clothes. The manager nearly missed Jungwoo’s next words, though once he’d processed them, he wished he  _ had _ missed them so that he could stay in the blissed-out world of Jungwoo’s touch. “I’m sorry that I make everything so difficult for you. I’m trying to take care of myself, but— my anxiety is eating at me lately. I need to figure out how to deal.”

“I know it’s exhausting, but you’re doing so well. You’re doing  _ great,  _ Woo, and we don’t tell you enough…” Taeil found himself embarrassed by his sudden sentimentality, thankful that he could hide his face in Jungwoo’s shoulder and avoid his gaze. Talking about problems was hard. He’d tactfully avoided it with Sunyoung— but thinking back, that had probably played a vital role in ending them, and he’d be  _ damned _ if some little miscommunication ended him and Jungwoo, too.  _ When we go out, I want it to be when the world really and truly has torn us from each other. _ The thought was bittersweet, and he muffled the feeling just as readily as he muffled his own voice: “It’s just tricky for me— a manager is supposed to mediate between the company and the idol, but ultimately, the manager is a company employee, too. I’m supposed to lean on their side, I’m only supposed to put your needs first if they’re in line with the biggest possible profit. And if not— it’s a conflict of interests.”

“I know,” Jungwoo’s palm slipped up the back of Taeil’s shirt and made him gasp just then, warm skin against warm skin, innocent but intimate. How could he ever be expected to give this up? “You know, when my mom told me about how I came to be… she never sounded regretful over picking me and my father over her career, but I know it must have been hard for her. She loved the stage, but hated the industry. She said it sucks the human out of people. I understand now what she meant.”

“Wow.” Taeil blinked. “Your mom told you all that when you were just a kid?”

“We were really close, though I feel like I lost her before I could ask any of the really pressing questions that are on my mind these days,” Jungwoo explained quietly. His nails dragged soothingly across Taeil’s skin, making him shiver. “But one thing that I try to live by— it’s that happiness is fleeting, and you never know when it will fly away from you. That’s why I’m holding onto you so tight, hyung. The happiness I feel right now, it’s  _ more than worth _ the uncertainty of not knowing where we’re going.”

_ Maybe it is, but I still want to know where we’re going. I want to be prepared in advance for the day when it all ends.  _ Taeil wasn’t brave enough to say any of this; he only held onto Jungwoo tight and let him shower his face in kisses.

"Sorry for rambling,” Jungwoo added after a moment, chuckling awkwardly. “I’ve just been thinking about this, like, all day. Should we sleep now?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m really tired.” It was true. When Jungwoo pulled his hands out from under Taeil’s shirt, it was like a switch was flipped: adrenaline gone, exhaustion set in. “Are you going to go wash your face properly? If you do, you should plug in my phone for me.”

“Yes, hyung!” Jungwoo answered sweetly, stealing one more kiss before pushing himself up to go prepare for bed while Taeil lazily dozed. He washed quickly, made sure their phones were plugged in, then finally flipped off the light— and Taeil waited patiently for Jungwoo’s warm embrace, but it didn’t come.

“It’s so warm in here. Are you too warm?”

Taeil shrugged. He was a little warm, but typically, he could sleep no matter what. (He attributed it to the depth of exhaustion he felt at every moment.) “Not really.”

“Ah.” Something shifted, the sound of fabric hitting the floor, a little grunt as Jungwoo tripped back onto the mattress, followed by a self-conscious giggle— “Fair warning, I’m naked. I’ll try not to roll on top of you in my sleep tonight.”

“You’re—” Taeil stiffened, glancing back in shock. Of course, it was too dark too see anything, except the fact that Jungwoo had given him a few inches of space as a courtesy. “Are you really?” he asked in amazement, mouth suddenly gone curiously dry.

“Yeah, I’m sweating. Which is a pity, because I wanted to cuddle. Why would they have the heat so high? It’s  _ April.” _

Taeil could have told Jungwoo that there was a thermostat by the door that controlled the radiator. The thought crossed his mind, but not his lips— instead, curiosity drove him closer to the heat that Jungwoo’s body radiated, the rasps of his breathing. He reached out cautiously, his hand landing smack in the middle of what was obviously a stomach, and Jungwoo tensed a little in surprise as Taeil’s hand began to move. Across his abdomen, then down the curve of his waist, over his hip… naked, every bit of it. Suddenly, Taeil was warm, too, and he realized that Jungwoo had stopped breathing at some point.

“D-Do— do you want me to put underwear on?” Jungwoo asked, voice unsteady with apprehension.

“You, uh… you don’t  _ have _ to.”

“Okay. Cool,” he breathed, though the atmosphere was anything  _ but _ cool. Taeil kept having to remind himself to take breaths— it wasn’t like this was his first time seeing Jungwoo naked, either, but like  _ this—  _ “You can touch me,” Jungwoo suddenly offered awkwardly, and when Taeil stayed frozen, Jungwoo scooted a little closer, letting his bare body brush against Taeil’s clothed one. “I mean— we can cuddle. It’s okay. I’m—  _ definitely  _ too tired to try anything, don’t worry.”

“Yeah. It’s okay,” Taeil confirmed shakily, kissing Jungwoo’s bare shoulder to prove it. Not uncomfortable, but—  _ distracting, _ perhaps. “Goodnight, Jungwoo. Sleep well.”

The sweetest little chuckle vibrated in Jungwoo’s chest, his fingers slipping through Taeil’s hair in a gesture of reassurance. “Night, cutie,” he whispered with a note of tease in his voice. (Pet names usually made Taeil cringe, but this time, he missed the chance to protest— he had far too much else on his mind.)

//

With the filming of Jungwoo’s show finally finished, the photoshoots out of the way, the recording done and the choreography finished, there was nothing to do but practice for the showcase and the music show performances that would follow. Jungwoo, as always, acted untireable. Taeil had to schedule things carefully to make sure that Jungwoo didn’t overpractice and wear himself out, placing PR trainings and album signings in the middle of the day whenever possible and luring Jungwoo up to his studio by asking to hear the latest work on his songs, just so that the idol would be forced to  _ sit down. _

“Hyung,” Jungwoo spoke up suddenly during one such break; they were sitting up in Jungwoo’s studio, listening through his showcase setlist while he sang along and signed through a large stack of albums. Recording the album without straining his voice had been challenging enough, but now getting them all perfect was a priority, and Jungwoo was beginning to sound hoarse. “Have you ever performed onstage before?”

The implications in Jungwoo's voice made Taeil's skin prickle with nerves, all down his spine. "Yeah. I was a theater kid, remember?" He forced a little laugh, and added quickly, "I was always fine onstage if I didn't have to dance. I'm bad at following dance steps. I can only focus on moving one body part correctly at a time, you know?"

“I can believe that. I mean, I’ve seen you trip over your own feet before.” He paused as the next song began—  _ Take The Dive,  _ one he’d been working on for months. His voice sounded great in the recording, his light tenor paired with understated percussion and an acoustic guitar.  _ “Without my realizing, the sound of my breath stopped— and then I discovered you.” _

“In that case… hyung, will you sing this with me at my showcase? I planned on using a recording for the harmonies, and I still can, but it would be more special this way...” Jungwoo asked it so casually that Taeil almost didn’t understand at first, but then he was washed over by a cold, nervous excitement. He couldn’t see himself standing next to Jungwoo onstage—  _ I wonder if I really could. He always says that I’m better than him. _

“Wait. Start the track over,” Taeil answered after a moment’s silence. “I need to listen to them properly first.”

For Jungwoo, he would consider it. For Jungwoo, for the two of them as a unit— and a little bit, a  _ little bit,  _ for himself.

//

The comeback showcase was an enormous success, even though Taeil was basically blacked out for most of it.

There were two things that Taeil remembered distinctly, through the stress and the anxiety and the preening of the stylists and the endless repetition of his lyrics under his breath— he remembered the screams when he stepped out onto the stage, and he remembered Jungwoo’s grin as their eyes met. Everything else, he wouldn’t have believed happened if he hadn’t been shown the fancams afterwards: a person who looked vaguely like him, hair styled in a way that he’d never style it, wearing BB cream that made him look like a ghost, and complimenting Jungwoo perfectly with every note. Jungwoo’s light, sunny tenor sounded amazing entwined with Taeil’s fuller voice, out-of-practice as it was— and Taeil usually hated listening back to his own voice, but this time, he couldn’t stop listening, rewinding, listening again.

Perfect harmony. It never ceased to give him chills.

“We should record something together,” Jungwoo nearly begged, peering over Taeil’s shoulder at the phone screen while Taeil lay splayed out on his stomach across the mattress. “I wish singing didn’t stress you out so much. Your voice is such a treasure.”

“Singing doesn’t stress me out!”

“Oh, please! I’ve known you for almost a year and a half, I can  _ tell _ when your stress levels rise,” Jungwoo challenged; his weight sank the bed beside Taeil before the idol straddled his thighs, and Taeil actually  _ did _ tense up until Jungwoo’s fingers gripped his shoulders and his thumbs began to massage at the top of his spine. “See? All your muscles are knotted up.”

“I’m tense because you’re sitting on my butt.” Taeil wiggled to get more comfortable— but then he heard Jungwoo’s sharp breath, and he went still under the his hands. “H-Hey— you’re the one who’s going to be dancing all day tomorrow at Music Core. Why aren’t  _ I _ giving  _ you  _ a massage?”

“Because I like giving massages, and I’m good at them. I used to give a lot of massages back in the trainee dorms,” Jungwoo revealed casually, pressing down hard with his thumbs on the places where the knots were tightest. When put that way, Taeil couldn’t really argue, and he melted into a puddle under Jungwoo’s skilled, strong hands. He let his phone drop from his grip, head resting heavily on the pillow as Jungwoo kissed the nape of his neck. Without thinking, he moaned.

“This okay?” Jungwoo’s fingers were working his way down, slowly, no longer preoccupied with knots but simply caressing the muscles of Taeil’s back, the curve of his waist. There was no rush to it, just Jungwoo savoring the moment, and something about  _ that _ thought made it all the more irresistible.

“Y… Yes…”

Warm hands brushed against Taeil’s hips, making him jump; smooth palms and deft fingertips made their way under the hem of his shirt, waking up every nerve ending that they touched. Taeil’s breath caught, and inadvertently, he moaned again— lighter, breathier, infinitely more embarrassing. Jungwoo huffed softly in amusement against his shoulder. “You’re so cute.”

“Am not.”

“Are too, and I’ll stay up all night arguing my point if that’s what you want to do,” Jungwoo replied cheekily, kissing the junction of Taeil’s neck and shoulder while his hands slipped down further— unashamedly squeezing his ass and making his entire body flush with heat. Maybe Jungwoo was complimenting him out of obligation, or maybe he was so pent up and so desperate to get laid that he was willing to settle for someone as imperfect as Taeil… 

“Jungwoo— it’s getting late.”

Jungwoo seemed to deflate a bit, the weight of his chest resting on Taeil’s back for a moment. “Am I getting rejected?” 

“Not exactly. I just… don’t want to be in a rush for our first time,” Taeil whispered, trying to keep his breathing and his body heat under control. There was no more hope for his heart, which had been racing from the first kiss. Feeling an unfamiliar sense of  _ smallness _ beneath Jungwoo’s body, he hid his flustered face for a moment in the pillow. “I’ve never been with a guy before. I think I need a little more time to— prepare.”

“Sorry,” Jungwoo mumbled quietly, seeming a bit embarrassed himself for the first time Taeil could remember as he backed up and gave him space to sit up. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never really done anything. I jerked Sicheng off through his underwear once, but it was awkward. And then he fell asleep before he could reciprocate anything, so…”

“All the more reason to wait.” Taeil’s hands were still trembling, but he tried to sound confident and reassuring to counter it, taking Jungwoo’s wrist and tugging him in for a kiss. A  _ heated  _ kiss, because despite his best self-control, his body was hungry for the return of that touch, and he needed to let Jungwoo know that. “After these promotions, we’ll have a proper break, and then we’ll have plenty of time, and… I want to. I  _ really _ want to.”

“Okay,” Jungwoo answered in a near whisper, eyes alight with barely contained excitement as he took another kiss from Taeil’s lips. “I hope you know that I’m going to spend the next month thinking about absolutely nothing else,” he confessed, giving him an anxious little squeeze. “I know we need to sleep, but now I’m not tired.”

“You don’t have time for insomnia! You  _ have  _ to be tired!” Taeil quipped back, hoping to restore some of the normal atmosphere between them, though the way his voice cracked didn’t exactly help. “Lay down with me. Maybe my snores will soothe you to sleep.”

Jungwoo wasn’t exactly  _ wrong,  _ though; there was electricity between their bodies that hadn’t been there before, and all it took was the  _ mention  _ of sex. When they settled down together, with Jungwoo’s arms wrapped gently around him, Taeil found himself a little restless too, and he spoke up tentatively, after a moment: “I’ll— I’ll sing to you for a little bit. If you think that would help…”

“That is  _ never  _ a question,” Jungwoo whispered, fingers running soothingly through Taeil’s hair. All at once, the energy softened; his eyes drifted closed, placated by the touch, and from the first tentative note, he felt Jungwoo melt into him.


	8. North American Tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspirations:  
> [Orbit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghQvv2PF-w8) \- Jonghyun
> 
> Here's where shit gets real - are you ready for the long-promised sex scene? @_@ I don't know why I could write PWP all day long but sex with pre-established plots and characters is hard as hell! Big shout-out to my roommate for listening to me bitch about this for a really really long time up til now.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Pls take the time to comment/kudos because, as we all know, fanfiction authors thrive on attention!
> 
> Twitter @AO3RinAngel

_ Taeil didn’t remember much from when he and his mother got back from the meeting at JYP. He remembered stepping into his bedroom, seeing his keyboard destroyed. He remembered the pain of his head pounding off of the floor, his father’s slurs, his mother’s pleading with him to stop. _

_ Nara was only thirteen years old, and she’d seen it all. He’d bled so much, she told him later, she’d thought he was going to die on the car ride to the hospital. And maybe he was just imagining it, but it seemed to him that she hadn’t been the same since that day. _

_ Taeil had needed stitches to close up the gash in his head, and in order to do that, they’d had to shave his hair off. He couldn’t bear to have visitors see him in the condition that he was in, completely bald and with his left eye swollen completely shut, and so he’d told all his friends not to worry about him. He was fine, he’d fallen down the stairs, that was all. He had a concussion, and possibly a fractured skull, so the doctor wanted to keep him overnight for observation. _

_ Was he sure that was exactly how it happened? Yes. Any trouble at home? No. Why was his sister so scared? She’s just sensitive, that’s all. The doctor took all of these answers without much change in her facial expression, and was just as coldly clinical as she moved on. What about the cuts on his his hips that the nurse had noticed when he’d helped him into his hospital gown? Were those self-inflicted? Was he aware of the dangers of self-harm? _

_ Taeil didn’t remember anyone helping him into a hospital gown, but he supposed he was naive to think that he’d changed himself. Yes, he whispered, he understood. _

_ Two weeks later, when Taeil was back in school, Suji had started her formal training at JYP, which took up all her nights and weekends. Jinri was going back to modeling, she’d announced, or maybe acting. Jaebeom threw all his extracurricular focus into the latest school musical; he’d been cast as male lead with hardly any competition. “Maybe I don’t want to be an idol,” he confessed to Taeil one day, on the way to practice. “Do you think I’m good enough to be in musicals? Be honest.” _

_ Taeil didn’t do theater during his final year of high school: he needed to focus on his college entrance exams, that was his excuse, but really it was because he was scared of the struggle. No amount of pain could make being onstage worth it. He wanted the sweet and easy approach, and that was letting his father take the reins of his stupid, ugly, and worthless life. _

_ Jungwoo reminded Taeil all the time of this fact, by doing nothing other than being his spectacular self. Taeil didn’t have the drive for the idol life, he didn’t have the looks, and most importantly of all, he didn’t have the glow. Taeil wasn’t the protagonist in his own story, he was a necessary but unimpressive sidekick in Jungwoo’s— the idol who seemed to glitter without a spotlight. _

//

Jungwoo was  _ finally  _ hitting his wall with the beginning of the  _ Press Your Number  _ promotions— and not only was he exhausted, but he was decidedly more  _ distracted _ this time around. Taeil, of course, could only blame himself.  _ He’d _ started this whole mess in the first place, after all.

Their days were packed with schedules from morning to night, and even during their moments alone in the van, there was the constant paranoia of fans and paparazzi outside the windows. As much as Taeil wanted to cradle Jungwoo in his arms or let the idol nap on his shoulder in their fleeting moments of downtime, they could never let the facade of professionalism crack, not even for a moment.

The  _ love, _ then, was saved for the few minutes that they had alone at night, in between rushing to shower and cook dinner and prepare for the day ahead. Kissing had become such a diversion that they needed to sleep with a body pillow between them or in separate beds altogether. Part of it was Jungwoo’s fault, hopeful and eager— in his own words, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to get close to Taeil, and what was closer than having your tongue in another person’s mouth?

Of course, Jungwoo wouldn’t have been half the distraction he was if Taeil had a little more self-control. Jungwoo didn’t ask Taeil to run his hands under the bottom of his shirt, tracing the lines of his abs with his fingertips, or to tilt his head when Jungwoo kissed along his jaw, trying to entice his lips down his neck. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so intoxicated by his own frustration, and it was so unexpectedly  _ exciting.  _ He wasn’t sure what he wanted more: to draw out the heart-pounding tease for as long as possible, or to finally have the opportunity to rip Jungwoo’s clothes off.

“You’re staring, hyung.”

Taeil  _ had  _ been staring. What  _ else  _ was he supposed to stare at when Jungwoo’s button-down shirt was missing half its buttons? He snapped his eyes away quickly, focusing every iota of his attention on the task of rolling up Jungwoo’s sleeves for him. “Where is Kibum, anyway? This is his job,” he deflected quickly. The stylist was a social butterfly, and music show backstages brought out the worst in his habit of gossiping with staff from other companies.

“AB6IX has a cute new manager. He’s scouting him out.”  _ God—  _ then again, Jungwoo clearly wasn’t surprised, so Taeil guessed he couldn’t be, either. He let out a little sigh of irritation, but even so, he felt some of that negative emotion melt away as Jungwoo added flirtatiously, “I’ve been staring at you, too. Have I told you how much I  _ love  _ those pants on you?”

“Jungwoo—”

_ “Yes?”  _ An utterly calculated flutter of his eyelashes as Jungwoo met his gaze—  _ fuck,  _ he was too good at this, it really wasn’t fair.

Before Taeil could say another word, though, Kibum stepped back into his dressing area with a dreamy smile on his face; before he could say a word about the cute new manager or  _ whatever,  _ Taeil stepped back and shoved the stylist into his place. “Fix Jungwoo’s sleeves, will you? He’s onstage for dress rehearsal in half an hour, so  _ quit disappearing.” _

“Touchy today,” Kibum observed smugly, looking back at Taeil over his shoulder as he took over. “Lover’s spat?”

_ “Do your fucking job, Kim Kibum.” _

Jungwoo, as expected, laughed lovingly and said nothing. Still, he didn’t stop staring, probably didn’t intend to, and so Taeil decided that sneaking the occasional glance himself was fair game.

//

Jungwoo made him feel so absolutely good, so absolutely  _ euphoric. _

Still, in his most logical moments, Taeil was nagged by one little worry. If things were going to fall apart, this would be the perfect time.  _ When he sees me. When he actually looks at me up close. If he’s going to decide that I’m not worth it, it will be then. _

Jungwoo’s last day of work before their promised break was a morning photoshoot, followed by a TV show taping, slated to end by 6 PM. Taeil hadn’t consciously planned it that way, but it was a convenient little surprise: an evening all to themselves, no interruptions, with plenty of time to enjoy an indulgent dinner, drink high-end champagne, and make love.

_ Make love?  _ Was that even the proper thing to say? Thinking about it was still embarrassing, even with all the anticipation and fanfare. Taeil could feel himself blushing already from the alcohol, but his flush darkened as he finished his glass of champagne and stood up nervously. “Can you take care of the dishes? I was thinking I’d go, ah… get myself ready?”

“Uh— right. Sure,” Jungwoo confirmed, standing up faster than Taeil had ever seen to gather the empty dishes and takeout boxes from the table. “Are you— um— I mean—”

Taeil blinked.  _ Please don’t drag this awkwardness out.  _ “What is it?”

“Nothing, just…” Jungwoo turned his back quickly to open the fridge and put the leftovers inside, and only then did he offer up, clearly flustered, “Wasn’t sure if you wanted to top or bottom. I was gonna volunteer if you were scared, but… I’ll do anything you want me to do, hyung.”

Taeil thought he might melt with the force of his embarrassment, but— what right did he have, really? It was Jungwoo’s first time, not his own; he couldn’t imagine how fast the idol’s heart was beating in comparison to his own. Trying to keep composed, he approached Jungwoo from behind, standing on his toes to give Jungwoo a quick hug from behind and a kiss on the back of the neck. “I’ll meet you in your room in a few minutes, then?”

“Sounds good!” Jungwoo turned in his arms, then, and gave him a kiss on the lips— but a quick one, clearly knowing that time was of the essence.

That was it, then. They were really doing this,  _ Taeil _ was really doing this  _ with _ him. It wasn’t anything about the physical act that scared him. Sunyoung had had a special affinity for sticking her fingers inside of him (and the occasional vibrator, but nothing too ambitious), so he had an idea of what he was in for in that respect. What  _ truly _ made him nervous was Jungwoo seeing him,  _ all _ of him. He didn’t look anything like Johnny, he was pretty sure, unless Johnny was somehow hiding love handles and thighs that brushed together when he walked.

_ Unless Johnny has scars. He seems too well-adjusted for that kind of shit, though. _ Hurrying into the bathroom, he shed his clothes with trembling hands, glancing down at the scars that criss-crossed along his hip bones. It had been eight years, to his estimate, since he’d made a cut, but— 

But he was still scarred, and he always would be. God, he hoped that Jungwoo was the last person he’d have to explain those scars to.

Taeil took his sweet time showering, cleaning every inch of himself, excitement and nerves fighting back and forth. When he finished, he ducked back into his own room for a moment, heart pounding. Part of him wanted to back out, snuggle up with Jungwoo in his warmest, softest pajamas and pop in a movie; part of him wanted to dive in, to open himself up and see what Jungwoo could make him feel. If only there was a middle option…

Well, hey, maybe there was. Catching sight of Jungwoo’s beloved sweater, once again stolen and hanging from the knob of his closet door, he nibbled on his bottom lip nervously— and then he grabbed it and slipped it over his head, letting it fall cozily over his torso and down to his mid-thigh.

When he opened the door to Jungwoo’s room, the idol was sitting on the edge of the mattress in nothing but his boxers, visibly tense and fidgeting with excitement. He looked up when Taeil entered, breaking into a wide grin. “Hyung, have I ever told you how hot it is when you wear my clothes?”

“I don’t  _ feel _ very hot. I’ve been standing here for three whole seconds and you’re not ravishing me with kisses yet.”

Taeil’s tease brought a flash of surprise across Jungwoo’s face before he grinned, reaching out to grab the bottom of the sweater and lead Taeil into his lap. “No! You’re  _ perfect,” _ he reassured him softly in the breath before their lips met— and he might have found himself doubting the younger’s words, if not for the way his hands quivered and hesitated as they settled on Taeil’s hips. His grip was firm, his kisses hot and desperate and  _ hungry.  _ At the same time, he was so endearingly gentle as he lowered Taeil to the mattress, lips trailing down his neck as fingers traced up his outer thigh.

“You’re so  _ fucking _ pretty, hyung,” Jungwoo’s breath tickled the dip of Taeil’s collarbone  _ just  _ where he knew the elder had a sensitive spot, sending pinpricks of anticipatory pleasure down his spine, but feeling Jungwoo bunching the sweater up around his waist and preparing to remove it sent his hand instinctively to grab his wrist.

“Can we leave it on this time? I’m… I’m nervous, that’s all.”

“Nervous with me?” Jungwoo repeated in surprise, pulling back to look into his eyes. There was a moment of silence, Jungwoo’s gaze gently questioning, Taeil’s unyielding. “Why are you nervous? I’m sure you’re beautiful.”

“I—” Taeil stopped himself, closing his eyes. That was a loaded conversation when his head was spinning with lust, certainly not something to talk about in the moment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone else, that’s all. It’s nothing you’ve done, it’s just… me being neurotic. Can you give me just a little more time?”

“Of— of course I can. I want you to be comfortable…” Still, the atmosphere was suddenly different, and Jungwoo seemed tentative as his hands returned to Taeil’s thighs, as if unsure what Taeil really wanted. It made his stomach surge with guilt, and with the mind of making up for it, he kissed and nibbled his way along Jungwoo’s collarbone, drawing goosebumps. His hips rocked against Taeil’s, stilted at first, as if by reflex, but Taeil encouraged him with his thighs tightening around his hips— and so Jungwoo continued, movements slow and controlled but growing in confidence as Taeil caught him in another heated kiss.

“I’m a little scared, but I don’t think I can wait any longer. I want you so badly,” Taeil confessed when they broke apart, voice hoarse and tremulous with his arousal. “I— I bought lube and condoms. I put them in the drawer beside your bed. I haven’t stretched myself at all, I thought you might be able to help me with that…”

“O-Okay…” Jungwoo took the hint to sit back and reach for the supplies; the bulge in his boxers was so endearingly obvious, and Taeil couldn’t resist sitting up with him so that he could keep stroking it while Jungwoo fumbled the lube open. “I’m going to go slow and try not to hurt you, but you might have to coach me through it.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Taeil reassured him instantly. That, at least, he was sure of. He propped Taeil’s hips up with a pillow for his comfort and used a liberal amount of lubricant, his lips creating distraction along Taeil’s inner thighs when he switched from one finger to two— and just as Taeil had come to expect, each heart-fluttering pulse of pleasure did a little bit more to muffle the fears in his head. When Jungwoo finally turned his attentions to the head of Taeil’s cock, teasing it with his tongue, Taeil had lost his self-consciousness, but it was only when Jungwoo took him mercifully into his mouth that he finally let go of the sweater’s hem in favor of a handful of his lover’s hair. “So good, Woo… you feel so good…”

“Do you think that’s enough? Do you think you can take me?” Jungwoo breathed as he pulled back. Pupils blown, lips pink and swollen, looking so  _ beyond _ beautiful in a way that only Taeil would have the chance to see him— and then his three fingers scissored inside of Taeil, rendering him unable to answer with anything but a nod and a desperate whine. The  _ loss _ of those fingers was even harder, and Taeil shivered, trying to find the mental capacity to speak, until— “Hyung, you might need to help me with the condom, though. My hands are shaking.”

_ “All _ of me is shaking!” Taeil protested, though he forced himself to sit up through the haze of endorphins and taking the foil packet from Jungwoo’s fumbly, lube-slicked fingers. The younger hadn’t so much as touched himself, but his cock looked painfully hard as he slipped his underwear wordlessly down his hips, and his breath faltered when Taeil’s fingers wrapped around him.  _ “God,  _ Jungwoo… you’re bigger than I thought you’d be.”

“I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult,” Jungwoo whispered breathlessly, though it didn’t escape Taeil’s notice, the way he arched his hips, trying to chase the friction.

“Hold still! This is hard enough without you moving!”

“I can’t help it!” Jungwoo’s cheeks went adorably pink as he confessed, “This is even hotter in real life than the  _ ten thousand  _ times I’ve pictured it in the last month and a half, that’s all. I’m a little worked up.” His answer was so genuine, Taeil felt it in his gut, and it made him smile as he leaned down to return the favor. Jungwoo let out the  _ cutest _ little gasp when Taeil wrapped his lips around him and bobbed his head as low as he dared, but perhaps thirty seconds later, Jungwoo shook his shoulder with an insistent little whimper. “Hyung… it’s— it’s too much, I’m too sensitive. I’m not going to be able to last if you keep going.”

Fair enough. Taeil opened the condom and rolled it onto him in one easy motion, and he’d hardly finished before Jungwoo was pulling him into his lap and kissing his neck heatedly once more. Any apprehension that Taeil had had time to build back up quickly melted away— once he was in position with Jungwoo over him, he spread himself eagerly, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of  _ giving himself. _

_ “Fuck,  _ hyung… it’s okay, I’ve got you… tell me when to move, okay?”

It was more uncomfortable than Taeil was expecting, but he couldn’t think for a moment of turning back. Their breaths fell into sync, Jungwoo's heart beating against him, length throbbing  _ inside _ of him— forget kissing,  _ this _ was closeness. His arms wrapped around him, hands clutching his shoulders as he found his bearings, and as soon as he could, he gave a little nod and wrapped his legs around Jungwoo's waist.

Jungwoo's hips rocked. Taeil's back arched. Little by little, they carved out a rhythm, which they lost and found again and again— Jungwoo always so cautious, checking in to make sure that Taeil felt as good as he did, kissing everywhere he could reach. The coil of heat building in Taeil's loins felt decidedly different this time than ever before— deeper, almost unbearably intense when Jungwoo thrusted at just the right angle— but he was still caught off-guard when the explosive moment finally came, drawing out a true scream of ecstasy and leaving him floating in euphoria. In that moment, there was no room for shame; not even in the aftermath, as Jungwoo cuddled up to him, rosy-cheeked and content, and teased, "You're so  _ loud.  _ Suddenly, I'm glad I'm not in a boy group."

"Th-That was—" There were no words for it, especially not when Taeil's head was still floating off in space somewhere. The one he could find would have to suffice:  _ "Jesus Christ." _

"Yeah. Agreed," Jungwoo laughed breathlessly, breaking away just long enough to dispose of the condom before he returned to wrap Taeil's smaller frame in his sleepy embrace. "Aww, you're so cute after sex. Almost as cute as you are during.”

“Hmph.” The compliment made him feel embarrassed all over again, and he hid his face shyly in Jungwoo’s neck.

The idol chuckled voicelessly, hand slipping bravely up the back of his sweater to trace soothing trails across Taeil’s skin. “Taeil-hyung— I don't know what it is that scares you about yourself, but I like every bit of you. You know that, right?"

_ He can feel my body, exactly how it is, and he still likes it. _ Taeil's eyes fluttered shut, and he sighed, falling to temptation and kissing a soft, lazy trail across Jungwoo's bare chest. No answer, none needed.  _ Not as much as I like every bit of you. _

There had been euphoria with Sunyoung the first time, too. Mistaken confidence that lasted for days, maybe weeks, deceiving him into thinking he’d found what he was looking for. But after every high was a crash— Jungwoo might not have known to expect that yet, but Taeil certainly did. There was no happiness that couldn’t be ripped away when he needed it the most. That was the scary part.

//

Taeyeon delivered as promised, making sure that Taeil got a hefty bonus at the beginning of their two week vacation, but Taeil would have felt like utter shit keeping it. Taeil wasn’t struggling with finances, he could afford to pass this up— and rather than handing it back to the company, he’d decided to treat Jungwoo to the high life for a little bit. Good food for the entirety of their time off, sporadic just-because roses and candy, a spa pass complete with a one-hour professional massage.

But even nicer than the extra money was their newfound free time, which they took advantage of at every turn. Taeil wasn’t used to his sex drive being so high, but Jungwoo’s ability to read Taeil made him a quick learner in all areas related to his boyfriend’s pleasure. His advances were a hard temptation despite Taeil’s anxieties, and he spent more time than he would have liked to admit in Jungwoo’s bed (and once, bent over the arm of the couch with his jeans pushed down around his knees and his cries muffled into a throw pillow— yes, Taeil, too, was glad that they had this whole apartment to themselves).

The two weeks passed too quickly, especially towards the end, when Jungwoo began going back to the practice room. Back to real life— no, worse than real life,  _ tour life.  _ The thought really settled in with Taeil when he brought Jungwoo to the salon, where his hair was bleached and dyed to a shocking shade of blue. It wasn’t a long trip, they’d be visiting only five cities before returning home, but they would also be promoting Jungwoo's first English-language song, a rerecording of  _ Highway to Heaven. _

Their flight would leave Seoul in the evening, they’d be in the air for roughly twelve hours, and when they stepped off the plane in Los Angeles, strangely enough, it would be noon. Taeil knew from experience that he’d be jet-lagged, but he’d prepared them with pillows and melatonin tablets in their carry-on bags, so they could hopefully knock out for most of the flight.

“I’ve never been on a plane before. Can I have the window seat?” Jungwoo pleaded, and with no resistance, Taeil let Jungwoo board the aircraft first so he could do just that. Their tickets were thankfully first class, giving them some roomier seats— no real way he could hold hands with Jungwoo without making it obvious, which was way more of a disappointment than it should have been. “Hyung, have you been to America before?”

“Just once, with Red Velvet,” Taeil explained, smiling slightly as he recounted, “We were in LA. The beaches were amazing, but we didn’t get much of a chance to visit them, so I made sure to block out one afternoon to sightsee while we’re there.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper, soft with affection, as he admitted, “I want to see the ocean together.”

“Yay! Me too,” Jungwoo answered brightly, finding his neck pillow before stowing away their luggage and getting comfortable in his seat. “I should try to sleep, but I’m too hyped up.”

“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll sleep, too, in a little bit. Once the turbulence is over." Truthfully, airplanes made Taeil nervous, and he wasn't sure how soundly he would sleep, even with the assistance of melatonin. Maybe he’d order some wine to smooth the process along.

"I'll stay up with you until then," Jungwoo decided cheerily, watching with thinly veiled curiosity as the seats around them filled. "And you can wake me up later tonight, if you get too bored and want someone to talk to."

Taeil rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You don’t trust me to manage without you for a few hours?”

“Nah. You love me too much.” Taeil’s flustered response of simply angling himself away and checking his phone in silence made Jungwoo grin, but he didn’t push for confirmation.

Take-off was smooth, and true to his intentions, Jungwoo fell asleep shortly after the plane leveled in the sky, his shoulders slumped and his cheek resting against the chair’s arm rest. It made Taeil long for economy class in the strangest way— it brought back the nightmarish memory of being unable to move for eight hours, with Wendy sleeping on one of his shoulders and Seulgi sleeping on the other, but if it were Jungwoo, he had a feeling it would be easier to manage.

It wasn’t long into the flight that Taeil noticed the movement from the seat in front of them, and upon closer inspection, the camera lens pointed between the crack in the seats. His skin instantly prickled with unease, and he glanced over to Jungwoo. He was still wearing the black cloth mask that he’d donned at the airport, but it had slid down around his chin, leaving him easy to recognize. He huffed, trying to keep his voice at least neutral as he spoke up: “Please don’t take pictures of him while he’s trying to sleep. There will be plenty of better photos just as soon as we get to America.”

_ “Is he talking to us?” _ One female whisper, barely audible, carried to Taeil’s ears and made his chest tighten in nervous anger. He wasn’t the type to relish in confrontation, like some managers he knew, but he had no choice when protecting Jungwoo demanded it.

“Yes, I’m talking to you, and I’m trying to ask nicely. Please delete the photos that you took, and don’t take anymore.” Taeil glanced over at Jungwoo, feeling his stomach lurch. Jungwoo looked so  _ angelic,  _ even in the awkward position he’d found himself in, and Taeil had to suppress the impulse to reach over and touch his flawless cheek.

At once, the head of a girl not much younger than Jungwoo peered over the seat. “Do you know how many of Jungwoo’s albums I’ve bought? I even bought tickets to his showcase. I’m paying your salary!”

Oh, one of  _ them.  _ Taeil was unfortunately familiar with this type of fan, and knew that there would be no arguing with her. His hand crept towards the “call” button, but there was already an attendant coming down the aisle who had seen the girl’s camera as well. Immediately the girl whirled around in her seat and shut her mouth, and Taeil took the opportunity to shove his pillow into the space between the seats.  _ Please, no more. I can’t deal with this shit the entire way to LA. _

“Hmm…” Jungwoo groaned softly as he stretched (first-class accommodated his long legs, but  _ just  _ barely) and finally blinked his eyes open. “S’mething happening? Almost there?” he rasped, disoriented from sleep.

“Not yet. You should go back to sleep.” Taeil glanced across the aisle, and behind them too, suddenly feeling the tiniest bit paranoid.  _ Seriously, this is so annoying—  _ with a sigh of irritation, he took off his beanie and reached it over to slip onto Jungwoo, sacrificing his image to help disguise him a bit more.

“Aww. Thanks, hyung. You’re the best.” Jungwoo tugged the black knit material snug over his ears before he reclined his seat a bit and made himself more comfortable. “Wake me up when food comes?”

“Yeah, of course.” Taeil tried to relax once things had settled, slipping the book he’d brought with him out of his bag, but the words seemed to swim on the page in front of him, and he found himself reading the same words over and over. In the end, his eyes were just more drawn to Jungwoo’s face, and he ended up only making it through a couple pages before he gave up completely. Maybe something more engaging— or maybe something to justify his inability to keep his eyes off the other.

Pulling out his phone, he opened his memos app and started a blank page.  _ It’s been a long time since I’ve written lyrics on my own.  _ At first he was doubtful that he would get anywhere while he was so stressed, but focusing on those silly, idealistic feelings that Jungwoo was making him experience all over again— snatches of lyrics floated through his brain like flower petals, and he snatched them up with abandon.

_ “There are so many stars floating around you, artificial satellites, _ _  
_ _ But I swear by the moon, it’s only you for me, only you.” _

//

They landed in LA just past noon, but Taeil honestly felt like he’d been awake for an entire night. Jungwoo had slept restlessly, on and off, and seemed a little dazed when they finally disembarked— but stepping out of the gate to a chorus of excited screams, he pulled his expression together into a dazzling smile. Airport security was standing at the ready, but Taeil stayed close at Jungwoo’s right hand, ready to assist if they were crowded or grabbed.

_ “Jungwoo-oppa!”  _ One fan with a placard headed the procession; they were noisy, but thankfully they were pretty orderly, and Jungwoo returned the love with waves, hearts, and blown kisses. Taeil tried to keep from smiling too much and drawing any attention to his mess of a self, but his face cracked when he heard one singular, shrill voice add to the ensemble:  _ “Taeil-oppa!” _

“What?!” Jungwoo called back in pure jubilance, grabbing Taeil suddenly by the elbow. “You like him?!” he asked in English, to another chorus of affirmative screams. Giggling, he tugged Taeil closer to link arms (nearly making him stumble) and called back in jest, “You can’t have him! He’s mine!”

There was a van waiting for them outside, already loaded up with their luggage and ready to take them to the hotel, and for once, Taeil didn’t have to drive. He relaxed in the relative privacy at long last, taking the opportunity to enjoy the sights out the window (and the merciful air conditioner).

“I  _ told _ you you have fans,” Jungwoo teased quietly after a quiet minute, breaking into giggles. “You wanna know why?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

_ “Because we’re collectively a boy band, and I’m the fucking maknae.” _

In the front of the van, the driver snorted in amusement while Taeil snatched his hat back off of Jungwoo’s head so that he’d have something to hide his reddening cheeks in. There was no need to say anything more, no need to touch to express what they were feeling; it crackled in the air between them and made them both grin like fools, and Taeil thought it a wonder that everyone around them didn’t guess exactly how they felt about each other.

//

Jungwoo’s schedules in America were slated to star the next day: a morning radio interview, a TV appearance, and a fan meet early in the evening. Taeil had selfishly arranged their flight earlier than he’d needed to, almost a full day ahead, solely so that they would have an afternoon together— to eat food, sightsee, and go to the beach.

Before they could do any of that, though, they had to check into their hotel, where Jungwoo was anxious to shower and change clothes. And Taeil really did try to stay awake while he waited, but the restless overseas flight had him drained beyond drained, and he couldn’t resist the urge to make himself comfortable in one of the spacious double beds.

The next thing he knew, the light coming through the window was not morning but early evening, with a tint of brilliant orange that dyed the white walls. It was getting late, and— and when he blinked, focused, there was Jungwoo laying beside him, eyes trained on Taeil’s face with an expression so gentle that it made his heart pound before either of them could speak.

“What time is it?” Taeil croaked before he could clear his throat, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. You should have woken me up— this might be our only time to do something nice together in LA!”

Jungwoo smiled faintly. “It’s only 4,” he responded soothingly, reaching out to touch Taeil’s cheek. “And I didn’t want to wake you up. I was admiring your beauty.”

Right on cue, Taeil covered his face. “You’re weird. Stop it.”

“But I’m serious! I like to look at you!” Jungwoo grabbed his wrist and gave his arm a tug, and Taeil only resisted for half a second before he let Jungwoo move his hand away. The smile that came to the idol’s lips was instantaneous. “I was just thinking that you have the  _ prettiest  _ eyelashes. But your eyes are even prettier.”

“Uh… thank you.” Taeil had always been uncertain how to respond to compliments, and he wished there were an easy way to ask Jungwoo  _ not  _ to give them to him, but— he supposed just kissing him was now an option to shut him up, so he went with that. “Are you hungry? We should go get something to eat and enjoy the sun before it sets…”

Fortunately, it was summer, and that allowed them plenty of sunlight left in the day: time to get burgers and milkshakes before walking down the boardwalk, peering into shops, people-watching and petting dogs, admiring the vibrantly dark clouds rolling in across the benign blue sky. Jungwoo was such a natural when it came to talking to people, despite the language barrier, and when they were recognized and greeted by fans, he wasn’t taken off-guard in the least. The ease with which he asked names and signed autographs while Taeil stood awkwardly back and observed— well, it was a perfect indication of the very different types of people that they were.  _ Jungwoo lives for this. Not just making music, but being seen. Meanwhile, I’d be happier if I were invisible. _

“You know what this last couple of weeks have felt like?” Jungwoo questioned softly as they walked along the beach, admiring the beginnings of sunset. After the second time getting recognized, he’d once again taken Taeil’s hat in defiance of the heat, making himself look a little more inconspicuous, but luckily the smell of incoming rain had cleared the worst of the crowds, making Jungwoo feel brave enough to link his pinky with Taeil’s.

“What?”

Jungwoo grinned, cheeks bursting with pink— from the warmth of the day or from sheepishness, it was hard to tell. “Practice honeymoons. We’ll be professionals once we get to the real thing,” he joked. It was so  _ clearly _ a joke, so Taeil wasn’t sure why he felt his stomach do backflips at the notion, but he nearly forgot to keep walking.

Marrying Jungwoo. Buying him a ring worthy of his brilliance and telling him  _ my heart belongs to you and nobody else, from now until we die.  _ Kissing him in front of a room full of people, his mother and Jungwoo’s father in the front row at the church, and— and the paparazzi outside, he remembered with a jolt of pain, because  _ of course,  _ Jungwoo was still on another plane of excellence. The excitement and dread came all at once like a wave, and he wasn’t sure how to put it all into proper words.

“Gay marriage isn’t legal yet in Korea,” he pointed out lamely, keeping his eyes on the horizon lest he explode from embarrassment.

“Well, then we’ll just pretend. Use it as an excuse to fly back here on our own terms. We can get married on the beach.”

_ What would my vows to him sound like? I could go on and on about how much I adore him, but what could I actually promise him?  _ The thought still lingered at the back of Taeil’s mind: someday, somehow, it would all end. No matter what they did to preserve it, no matter how much they loved each other—

“You look scared. I was joking, I promise. I don’t want to get married until I’m at least thirty,” Jungwoo supplied uncertainly, taking Taeil’s entire hand and sidling up to him a bit as they walked, their bare arms brushing. “Sorry, I’m just…  _ ridiculously _ happy right now.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Taeil mumbled, though his hand was itching to get free from Jungwoo’s grip all of a sudden. Touching like this in public made him feel unpleasantly exposed, and he kept finding himself glancing around in search of eyes on them. “This is just— it’s a big change, all at once, and it feels  _ crazy _ sometimes…” As naturally as possible, he detached Jungwoo’s grip, feigning an itch on his opposite arm as an excuse— and with his eyes turned to the ocean, he asked as nonchalantly as he knew how, “Woo, where are we going? I mean… how long do you see us lasting?”

For the first time, the smile on Jungwoo’s face faded a little, realizing that Taeil’s mind was off somewhere a fair bit darker. “I don’t know… as long as possible? I mean, ideally forever, but I know the world isn’t ideal. As long as things stay this good.” Jungwoo’s feet trailed in the sand, and when turned to glance at him, he’d stopped completely, his expression pained. “You’re not about to break up with me, are you?”

Even the words  _ break up _ made Taeil feel lightheaded. They’d never go back to normal if they did. Not when Taeil knew what his kisses tasted like, and the safety of his arms around him while he slept. “No, Jungwoo… I’m just thinking realistically, that’s all. You know,  _ forever _ isn’t really a possibility with relationships. Everything eventually ends.”

Jungwoo didn’t falter. He didn’t look away, or seem unsure of himself, or raise his voice in panic. In fact, there was nothing more admirable to Taeil than his boyfriend’s confidence in the moment as he answered back without hesitation: “My parents were an idol and a manager, just like us, and they lasted as long as they could last. Things weren’t perfect, but I really do think they were in love until the end.”

“She lost her career.”

“It was okay, though.  _ We _ were okay.” Jungwoo smiled so patiently, something that Taeil sorely needed. “I know we might end in a year. Hell, we could end tomorrow, for all I know. But why shouldn’t we aim for forever?”

Taeil could almost see that future for them,  _ almost. _ Quiet weekend mornings drinking coffee together. A shared bedroom, all their clothes jammed into one closet. Not a baby, but a dog instead, one that Jungwoo would inevitably  _ call _ his baby. Maybe Jungwoo was still famous, and maybe he wasn’t, but that wouldn’t matter to Taeil. As long as Jungwoo kept  _ shining, _ he’d love him just the same.

That was all Taeil could think about as their fingers linked. That was all Taeil could think about as their lips pressed together. That was all Taeil could think about— until a fat raindrop hit him squarely on the nose, and a few seconds later, Jungwoo pulled back with a surprised laugh as it started to  _ pour. _

“I hope that’s a good omen,” he commented, completely unbothered by the sudden onslaught of water soaking his hair and his clothes.  _ I can’t believe I just did that. Kissed him here. _ Taeil shivered, about to suggest that they run for cover, but when Jungwoo started walking again, his pace was just as easy as ever. “The rain can be romantic too, right? It’s  _ refreshing.” _

Taeil had to laugh. It was crazy,  _ Jungwoo _ was crazy, but he supposed that was just another part of his charm. With a little hum of affirmation, he let his steps slow down to match Jungwoo’s— he noticed that he always found more pleasure in things when he did so.

//

_ “Hallelujah, you got me singing hallelujah.” _

Every stop of the tour had the same setlist and the same outfits, but Taeil still never got tired of watching Jungwoo perform, from LA to Houston to Chicago to Toronto and all the way to New York City. They was tired in between shows, often only returning to the hotel to crash for a few hours before they were flying out to the next destination— but not an ounce of that appeared onstage, where Jungwoo put his entire heart out into the audience every time.

(And yes, in Chicago, Johnny had been third in line for hi-touch. Seeing him made Jungwoo start to cry, which probably made for an extra-memorable event for the fans following him. Even if it was the person he loved crying over someone else, Taeil couldn’t help but find it heart-wrenchingly adorable.)

Preparation for the final show was hectic: they’d left Toronto early and landed in New York just in time for their dress rehearsal, without even time to check in at their hotel or eat a meal. Taeil had ended up venturing out to a convenience store to find Jungwoo something to eat, and he’d made do with beef jerky and pretzels, sneaking bites in between steps of makeup. Rehearsals had them both on edge— a stage light wasn’t working, and the staff had to change lighting cues to accommodate— and just before the show, Jungwoo had fallen asleep on the dressing room couch and flattened his hair completely on one side, which just about made the already-stressed stylist break down into tears.

Out onstage, though, just like every show so far, Jungwoo delivered everything that his audience had paid for. He smiled like he meant it, and took over the stage to sparkle amongst the backup dancers. He might not have been the best singer or the best dancer in the industry, but he was the best  _ performer  _ that Taeil could think of, and even during moments of imperfection, missed notes or botched dance steps, that stage presence wasn’t lost. The audience demanded an encore, and then another, and Jungwoo came out on the other side breathing like he’d just run a marathon but looking like he’d happily do it all again.

The next morning, their flight back to Korea was at 9 AM, but Jungwoo was unusually energized when they arrived in the hotel just shy of midnight. “You know when you’re so tired you don’t feel tired anymore? It’s like that,” Jungwoo explained just as eloquently as Taeil had expected, bringing a smile to his lips. “What if we just stay up all night and then sleep on the plane?”

“I always have trouble sleeping on planes,” Taeil replied, though not too harshly, as he shut the hotel room door softly behind them. Dousing the light on Jungwoo’s face would have felt like an absolute crime.

“You’ll sleep well if you’re tired,” Jungwoo pointed out stubbornly, slipping off his shoes and stepping casually over to the window to close the curtains. And then, as though his objective weren’t obvious enough: “I can tire you out, if you want. Come shower with me.”

It hadn’t seemed possible at the start, but  _ somehow, _ Taeil and Jungwoo had gone the entirety of the tour without sleeping together. They were always tired, or bogged down with things to do, or surrounded by cameras _.  _ And Taeil would have been lying if he tried to say that he wasn’t going slightly crazy from it— but Jungwoo’s proposition made him pause, because if they showered together, he wouldn’t be able to insist on keeping half his clothes on, or turn the lights off before they were fully undressed.

“Why don’t you shower, and then I’ll shower, and then you can tire me out in bed, that way there’s less danger of one of us slipping and concussing ourselves on the shower walls?” Still, Taeil couldn’t protest properly when Jungwoo had already started kissing his neck— brazenly undoing the top buttons of his shirt and instantly turning Taeil to putty in his hands with his confidence.

“I won’t let you fall. Do you trust me, Taeil-hyung?” Jungwoo’s arms slipped securely around Taeil’s waist, his assault of kisses pausing at his manager’s shoulder as he simply engulfed him in his hold. The question was pointed, and it took Taeil a bit by surprise.  _ Is he really asking me that question right now? Does it seem like I don’t? _

Talking. Feelings.  _ Yuck.  _ Taeil’s friends had always teased him for being such a softie, but when it came to relationships, it was the emotional parts that were always the hardest for him to confront. Yes, he trusted Jungwoo to adore him completely, even his imperfect parts; the hard part was trusting  _ himself _ to let it go and stop worrying about it. Thinking about Jungwoo’s eyes on his scars made them faintly itch.

“I trust you…” Taeil trailed off, distracted by Jungwoo’s hands sliding down to cup his ass and making him instinctively press against Jungwoo more tightly. “A-Ah… you’re  _ embarrassing.” _

“Why are you so shy with me! Seriously…” Jungwoo protested playfully, stealing one more kiss before he stepped back to lead Taeil to the bathroom. “You weren’t like this with Sunyoung-noona, were you?”

Just the prospect of talking about Sunyoung while minutes away from having sex with Jungwoo made Taeil’s face burn, and he turned his back to Jungwoo as he slowly undid the rest of his shirt buttons. Yes, he’d been horrified to take his clothes off in front of Sunyoung the first time, and yes, she’d taken pause at his scars when she’d finally noticed them— kissing over the network of lines so slowly and deliberately that his skin had crawled. He hated knowing that she knew, and that that knowledge would forever change how she saw him. He always wondered if it crossed her mind when he made jokes at his own expense. “Sort of,” he answered as vaguely as he could, letting his shirt fall while Jungwoo stripped behind him. “I’m just… not that confident in my body, that’s all.”

“Really? How come?”

Talking about it didn’t feel as weird as Taeil expected when he could turn himself away and disconnect himself from the conversation. His eyes inevitably found his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, then: the mediocrity of his shirtless body, no muscle definition to speak of, with his scars seeming to glow white where they peeked over the top of his waistband. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to keep approaching it from the same detached perspective, talking about himself as though he were someone else. “I know what kind of guy you’re attracted to, and I know I don’t fit the bill.” He’d loosened his belt, methodically and slowly, and finally got up the nerve to push his pants and boxers down his thighs.

“Ah, you think you know every kind of guy I’m attracted to?” Jungwoo asked lightly. Taeil could already feel the younger man’s eyes on him, finally consuming the sight of him from behind after being denied for so long, and he had to close his eyes to protect what little confidence he had. “Hyung, you’re  _ so  _ sexy! I’m not sure what you expected would scare me away. I already told you, I like all of you.”

“I’m out of shape.”

_ “Out of shape _ and  _ sexy _ are not mutually exclusive,” Jungwoo answered dryly, turning on and adjusting the water temperature. “But if I need to physically demonstrate to you how much I like your ass, I will!”

The promise made him feel hot from head to toe, though not quite as hot as when Jungwoo’s strong arm wrapped around his hips and pulled his bare body in close, chest pressed against Taeil’s back.  _ Almost there. He almost knows. _ Jungwoo’s distracting lips fell on his bare shoulder, but rather than relaxing enough to be coaxed into the shower, he remained stubbornly put, breath quivering. “Woo… I have scars on my hips,” he confessed in a near-whisper, feeling surreal in the light of his own confession. “Can you do me a favor… and just pretend that you don’t see them? Don’t touch them, don’t kiss them. They’re embarrassing.”

Jungwoo’s hand was already resting over the scars, but he didn’t move his fingertips aside to try and sneak a peek, or even trace the raised skin with his fingers. His full attention seemed invested in the hickey he was sucking into Taeil’s shoulder, and Taeil wondered for a moment if Jungwoo had heard what he’d said, until the idol finally responded: “If that’s what you need to be comfortable, of course I can. But I hope you know that a few scars don’t make you any less beautiful to me.”

_ Beautiful _ was such an objectively wonderful word, and it was even harder for Taeil to swallow than the discomfort of undressing in front of Jungwoo. There was no disconnecting, not when Jungwoo was waiting for a response— to avoid acknowledging it, he turned around and hugged Jungwoo tight around the waist. “No more sappy. I’m cold,” he mumbled into his lover’s shoulder, trying to hide his blush.

Jungwoo giggled quietly. Taeil could only imagine that he was exhausted from the day he’d had, but Jungwoo still picked him up like he weighed nothing, and Taeil instinctively wrapped his legs around the taller man’s hips for support. “Let me warm you up, then.” He didn’t let Taeil down, even as he stepped over the side of the tub, though Taeil instinctively drove his nails into Jungwoo’s back.

“Just be careful—”

“You said you trusted me,” Jungwoo interrupted stubbornly. “And I told you, I’m  _ not  _ going to let you fall.”

(And he didn’t, for what it was worth.)

//

And so Taeil and Jungwoo were both exhausted messes at the airport the next morning. A small crowd saw them off; Jungwoo turned and smiled and waved even with dark bags under his eyes, and as soon as they passed through security and lost them, he reached for Taeil’s hand with a grin.

“Everything’s going just as planned. I can’t wait to board this plane so I can pass out for twelve hours.”

Taeil, for the first time, felt the same way. Being able to turn off his phone and be unreachable in the sky for a stretch of time felt sort of like a luxury this time around. As soon as he put in his headphones and closed his eyes, he was out, and he didn’t wake until several hours later. Jungwoo was still dozing, and once again, Taeil was left with a stretch of time to type in little bits of lyrics into his phone. The phrases would have to be molded to fit together, but after so much time spent in a creative lull, it was sort of a relief to have  _ anything  _ tangible to show.

_ “My heart won’t listen to me, it’s too busy watching you.”  _ That more or less summed it up, Taeil thought affectionately, glancing over at Jungwoo, who was hard at work on the same thing in his notebook. When he got time to really work on lyrics, it was like he was able to shut out every outside noise and distraction. His eyebrows were scrunched in concentration, cheek shifting as he gnawed on the corner of his lip—  _ possibly _ the cutest of his little songwriting habits. He’d lost a lot of time watching Jungwoo since he woke up, but none of it felt like time wasted.  _ “My heart won’t listen to me, it’s too busy watching you.” _

Going back to normalcy would be sort of a drag, Taeil couldn’t help but think as they touched down in Seoul once more. Not that he didn’t enjoy the time they spent together, but— balancing feelings and work was proving tricky for both of them, and Taeil wasn’t looking forward to the long hours Jungwoo would soon be forcing himself through.  _ Imagine how pathetic, if a fight about work schedules were the thing to end us.  _ He’d been trying to stay positive about it all since their talk on the beach, but positive wasn’t part of Taeil’s nature.

“Still sleepy, hyung? You’re so quiet,” Jungwoo commented as they got back into their car at the airport and Taeil heaved a particularly heavy sigh.

“Sort of,” Taeil agreed softly, checking the lights and mirrors quickly. They’d had their own driver in America, and it had been nice to have a break from his usual spot behind the wheel. Driving in Seoul was its own special headache. “Mostly just thinking about how little that honeymoon felt like a honeymoon, in the end.”

He didn’t miss the way Jungwoo’s eyes brightened, making his heart feel feverish and fluttery all at once. “Someday,” he promised softly, reaching out to run his fingers affectionately over Taeil’s messy hair. That was all he needed to say, really, to have Taeil lightheaded with inexplicable hope. Maybe, if they both wanted it enough, it would be possible.

When they left the parking garage and their phones regained service, Taeil’s rattled in the cup holder between them, demanding his attention. At the same time, a call lit up Jungwoo’s screen, and he frowned when he looked from one device to the other. “It’s President-nim. You have two missed calls, and now she’s calling me.”

Taeil’s stomach dropped, pooling with fear. Taeyeon  _ knew _ they were flying back that day. If she was calling so insistently, it had to be important— and probably not good. “Answer it on speakerphone,” he instructed tensely. “Wait for my cue before you say anything, okay?”

Jungwoo nodded once, mouth pressed into an uncertain line as he answered the call. “Good morning, President-nim! We’ve just gotten back to Seoul, so we just saw your calls—”

_ “So your phones have been off,”  _ Taeyeon surmised, sounding just as agitated as Taeil had feared.  _ “Taeil, I need you both to come here right now. The fan cafe is burning, people have been emailing and calling all morning— there are pictures going around that are supposedly you and Jungwoo kissing in America. We just released a statement that the picture isn’t him, of course, but… it is, isn’t it?” _

Jungwoo, as instructed, was silent. In fact, he did an admirable job of keeping his face unaffected, quietly biting his thumbnail while he waited for Taeil’s response. “We— we’ll be right there. Give us half an hour,” Taeil promised shakily, more out of instinct than a true response. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, his brainpower flickering and his chest feeling cold and empty with absolute dread.  _ Kissing. Who could have caught us kissing? Cameras in our hotel room?!  _ The thought made his face spike with fever, and he bit his bottom lip  _ hard _ to try and distract from the twisting in his stomach.

_ “Wear masks when you get out of the van, nothing recognizable. The intern said that there’s fans talking about mobbing the building. Be safe.” _

The line clicked off, and Taeil tightened his trembling grasp on the wheel, trying to keep a brave face just as Jungwoo was. “Look for the pictures,” he ordered tensely, not chancing to look at Jungwoo. The minute their eyes met, Taeil knew, he’d probably start to cry. “How damning are they?”

Jungwoo was silent as he searched, which Taeil was secretly thankful for, with his mind racing as it was.  _ I don’t even know what to be sad for— my career, or his career, or the two of us. If I get fired, I’ll never see him again. And what company will hire a manager that’s known to kiss his charges? If any of the other staff tip her off to me and Sunyoung, too— she’s going to think that I’m some kind of pervert.  _ Yup, Taeil was certain of it, he’d never work in entertainment again if this ever hit the public. And while he wouldn’t miss the work itself, his heart absolutely ached at the thought of not seeing Jungwoo every single day.

“Oh— on the beach,” Jungwoo suddenly reported, his voice tentative. “I think my  _ fan _ followed us to the beach and took pictures of us from a distance. My hair was covered, but they compared the picture to one I took with a fan earlier in the day.”

_ “Fuck.” _ Taeil sighed, pressing his nails painfully into the leather of the steering wheel. “SM is denying it, but it’s not like I was behind the scenes. People know my name, there are pictures of me readily available on the internet, they know what  _ you and I  _ look like together.”

“But it’s not like you were kissing me against my will! It takes two people to kiss,” Jungwoo spoke up, and Taeil honestly wasn’t sure  _ what _ the hell he was getting at until he continued, “SM has to cover for both of us, or they have to fire both of us. Right?”

Taeil should have expected Jungwoo’s simple-minded view on the matter.  _ He _ hadn’t seen how disposable a staff member could be compared to an idol. Still keeping his bleary eyes steady on the road, he responded as evenly as he could: “You’re the profitable one, not me. If it comes down to it, they’ll probably fire me and see if they can save you. That’s what they  _ should _ do. That’s the solution that I’m going to push for.”

_ “What?  _ Don’t do that, that’s basically quitting!” Jungwoo reached for him, Taeil saw out of the corner of his eye, but he must have thought better about it and hesitated. “Rumors blow over. This isn’t going to last forever.” Taeil swallowed his exasperation, feeling it boil in his stomach— but the words he was about to say,  _ I ruined you and you know it,  _ disintegrated in his mouth when Jungwoo finally dared to touch his forearm. Slowly, Taeil relaxed his right arm, shifting all the responsibility to his left hand on the wheel, just so Jungwoo would have something to hold onto.

“We don’t have to break up, do we, hyung?”

That this thought should even be on Jungwoo’s mind, when his career was on the edge of collapse, almost made Taeil laugh. “Jungwoo. We’re talking about a career that you’ve been working towards since high school, versus a relationship that you’ve been in for five months. Be practical.” And then— he didn’t know why this came up next, why his lips couldn’t hold the words back: “We just talked about how difficult  _ forever  _ would be, didn’t we?”

Jungwoo squeezed Taeil’s hand tight, his voice small and complacent as he responded faintly: “I know.”

“Let’s wait until we talk to Taeyeon before we make any decisions. Maybe— maybe you’re right. Maybe people will forget.” As they pulled up behind a clog in traffic, the car slowing to a momentary stop, he risked a look at Jungwoo and nearly wished he hadn’t. Jungwoo was looking at  _ him,  _ and the expression in his eyes gave Taeil chills that he couldn’t quite name.

“Okay, hyung. Sorry. I’ll try to relax.”

The drive after that was quiet. No music, no conversation, just Jungwoo holding onto Taeil like his life depended on it, thumb stroking hypnotically back and forth across the back of his hand. They were nearly pulling into SM’s back parking garage when their eyes met again, with an intensity like static electricity popping between them, and it finally dawned on him that Jungwoo was looking at him the way he looked down at the paper when he finished writing a song.


	9. 4th EP: Married to the Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we come with a whole bunch of heavy content all at once! Enjoy the mental breakdown! ^.O
> 
> Exciting news, I actually have the rest of the fic _pretty much done_ so expect quicker updates from here on out as I struggle to edit at the speed of light! I'd love to know what people think so please drop a comment or kudos if you enjoyed, or follow me on Twitter @AO3RinAngel
> 
> Song inspirations:  
> [Married to the Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcu7yZBeSKw) \- SHINee

_It’s a simple pair of photographs. They shouldn’t carry the weight that they do, and yet Sunyoung can’t look away, because something tells her that this will be the end of Kim Jungwoo._

_The first: Jungwoo posing with a fan on the boardwalk. He’s impressively tall next to the girl who looks to be high school age, and though Sunyoung can’t imagine that any idol is thrilled to be recognized on a personal schedule, he’s beaming anyway. His tanned skin glows in the light, his hair freshly dyed blue; he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and a pair of tight black jeans despite the California heat._

_The second: a grainy, zoomed-in shot of a couple standing on the beach. They’re dressed discreetly, in plain clothes: the shorter in a blue button-down shirt and cut-off shorts, dark hair mussed by the wind, and the taller in a white shirt, black pants, and a cap that covers_ most _of his hair, except for a few blue strands that have escaped. The shorter is holding onto the taller’s shirt at his shoulder— pulling him in, she realizes, their lips locked._

_“That could be anyone,” one comment argues, “this picture doesn’t prove anything.”_

_“This picture was taken last month,” another bites back, “here’s his manager wearing that same shirt.” Attached is candid shot of Taeil behind Jungwoo on their way into the studio, and though it’s impossible to tell for sure, the shirt_ is _basically identical. The height difference looks about right. So does the build. That could be them. That could really be them._

_The only thing that throws it off, for Sunyoung, is the way that Taeil is pulling on Jungwoo. It doesn’t feel like him: always cautious, always modest, sweet but never particularly passionate. She can’t imagine Taeil in a love like that, though she can’t think of anyone who deserves it more._

_“Can’t believe Jungwoo is being so careless,” says one._

_“His manager is in a position of power. He’s a predator. He should be fired,” says the next._

_Sunyoung isn’t sure what to think, and she scrolls through a handful more comments, a petition for Taeil to resign. And finally,_ finally, _through the tidal wave of anonymous vitriol, SM Entertainment’s statement surfaced._

_“Today, some very serious claims were made in regards to our artist, Kim Jungwoo, and his relationship with his manager. We have checked with Jungwoo himself, and verified that the photograph is a case of mistaken identity. The staff and talents at SM Entertainment are all trusted family members, and we take allegations of misconduct seriously, but there is no basis behind the rumors of a relationship between Kim Jungwoo and his manager. We respectfully ask that fans avoid circulating misinformation.”_

//

The elevator ride up to Taeyeon’s office was one of the most nerve-wracking in Taeil’s memory. Jungwoo was silent, his face unreadable, fidgeting with his phone: popping the case on and off, checking his messages, doing anything _besides_ looking at Taeil. _This could be our last moment alone for awhile,_ Taeil thought dizzily, and he couldn’t even bring himself to touch him. _Maybe this is what I’ll remember when I think about Jungwoo. This moment right here, and all the things I should be saying to him._

“You’re good, hyung?”

“I mean—” Taeil was surprised that his mouth could even form words. Commendable. “No, but yes. I don’t know.”

“Promise me you’re not going to give up on me until you have to.”

The request sent a rush of warmth through Taeil’s chest, and his throat felt choked as he snuck another look at Jungwoo. “I promise,” he breathed, and he wished he could say he meant it. In an ideal world, he would give it all up for that _forever_ Jungwoo wanted, but Taeil truly didn’t know what he intended to do if _(when)_ they were separated.

“Maybe not even when you have to,” Jungwoo added stubbornly, his fingers wrapping around Taeil’s hand for just a moment, long enough to squeeze. _What does that even mean?_ Taeil wanted to remind him again of his priorities (namely, the fact that _he_ should not be one of them), but before he could structure what to say, the elevator door opened and Jungwoo released his hand. “You can lead the way, hyung.”

Taeyeon was alone in her office, looking morose, hair already coming loose from her bun from the number of times she’d run her fingers through it. She was still and silent as they entered, not saying a word as Taeil immediately fell into an apologetic bow; Jungwoo did the same, but lowered a beat later and raised a beat earlier than Taeil. “President-nim, I’m sorry for making trouble for you,” he murmured quietly, but without much inflection. It was hard for Taeil to measure exactly what he was feeling.

“This isn’t making trouble for me,” Taeyeon’s voice was absolutely _loaded_ with venom. She was the type who was at her scariest when she was _quiet_ instead of loud, and the frozen sear of her tone made Taeil feel sick to his stomach. “‘Making trouble for me’ would be telling the world that you’re Kim Jieun’s son, or accidentally owning the same shirt as Kim Dahyun. This is beyond ‘trouble for me’, do you realize that?”

 _It’s all my fault,_ Taeil wanted to say as their eyes locked, though his mouth went dry as soon as his lips parted. It was Jungwoo who managed an answer, with that same steady and unaffected delivery: “I can’t apologize enough for our carelessness, President-nim, but—”

 _“But?”_ Taeyeon repeated in utter shock, jaw clenched and eyes bright.

“But how am I supposed to write love songs if you won’t let me have feelings for somebody? I’m not a robot.”

 _“Everyone dates,_ you fool, but you could have had a little more _discretion,”_ Taeyeon snapped, eyes alight with anger and jaw clenched around the word she’d probably wanted to call him instead of _fool._ “And you could have picked probably any female celebrity you wanted and we could have covered for you, or waited for the public to brush it under the rug, but— your _male manager—_ do you realize that you’ve _both_ violated your contracts? I could terminate both of you and make you pay for damages, if I felt like it.”

Taeil’s stomach dropped. This was exactly what he was scared of, and the very prospect made his heart race until his blood was rushing in his ears. “Please don’t—” The words fell from his lips without thought, and he felt himself break out in a sweat when Taeyeon’s savage eyes turned themselves on him. “Terminate my contract, not his. I kissed him. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“The public doesn’t care about that,” Taeyeon bit back, clearly frustrated and rubbing her temples. “Private opinion? I don’t give a _shit_ who the two of you want to kiss in your spare time, but you’re not trying to appeal to _me._ Right now, half the fanbase is burning Jungwoo’s merchandise because they feel like he deceived them about his sexuality, and the other half is demanding to know why we let a sexual predator manage our idols.”

Jungwoo had gone back to quiet, his eyes downcast. But in a move of silent opposition to Taeil’s pleas and Taeyeon’s scolding, his hand found Taeil’s in the space between them, holding onto it tight. The move didn’t go unnoticed: Taeyeon’s eyes flickered to their hands, and she snorted, choosing not to acknowledge it.

“We’ve denied the rumors,” she went on gravely. “Neither of you can breathe a word about this to anybody, not _ever._ We’re going to try damage control, if only because you’re our highest earning artist in the company. But as for _you—”_ Her gaze turned on Taeil, making him flinch.

“If you fire him, it makes us look guilty immediately,” Jungwoo interrupted earnestly. _As though she couldn’t possibly hate us anymore._ He dug his nails into Jungwoo’s palm, about to turn and tell him to _keep his mouth shut,_ but the idol continued on with the same unshaken conviction: “Please. Give us a bit of time. I have faith that enough of my fans will hold on.”

“Yes, Jungwoo, if you’d _let me finish—”_ The exasperation was too much for the CEO, who leaned back in her desk chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Taeil is going to stay right where he is. And for the next week, at _least,_ you’re to stay inside your apartment and call the company for anything you need. Stay away from the company building. Keep off the fan cafe. We’re going to keep watch on the public opinion and try to decide what to do from there— but if you can’t do as we say, you’re both gone. Do you understand me?”

"Yes, President-nim."

"Yes, President-nim." Taeil echoed the sentiment weakly, barely able to believe the break they'd caught. Not that they were out of the woods yet. The entirety of Jungwoo's fans, as a unit, were far scarier than Taeyeon could ever be by herself.

"If that's all understood, you can go. Keep your phones close, because I'll be in touch," Taeyeon murmured coldly. "And trust that I'll be keeping a close eye on the media. If the fan response continues to escalate, I'm afraid that Taeil's tenure with SM Entertainment will be cut short. I don't want to resort to that with my best manager, but it may be unavoidable."

Taeil, but not Jungwoo. The decision made Taeil's knees weak with nerves, though he tried not to show it as he bowed his gratitude once more. Getting split up would be a shot to the heart, but seeing _Jungwoo's_ career blown up would have been a nuclear bomb. As long as Jungwoo could keep his claws curled into the dream he'd fought so hard for— as long as Jungwoo had a sky to keep _sparkling_ in, Taeil could live with the rest.

//

It was a nightmarishly quiet afternoon. Jungwoo didn’t have much to say to him (though he seemed more bewildered than upset) and Taeil couldn’t say he blamed him much. Without even permission to go to his studio, he really didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, and what could Taeil do, really, but sleep? Sleep, when it would allow itself, seemed like the answer these days.

When he woke up, it was to the evening light playing on the wall and the uneven quiver of crying breaths. Not his own, he realized as he drifted towards being fully awake— _Jungwoo’s,_ palpable through his chest pressed firm against Taeil’s back. At first, Taeil was shocked that Jungwoo had wanted to sleep next to him; but every so often, Jungwoo would press the softest kiss against the back of his neck, and Taeil realized that he wasn’t sleeping, that he’d only wanted to hold him.

“I’m so sorry, Jungwoo.” Taeil’s hand found Jungwoo’s, which were clutching each other in the middle of Taeil’s stomach. “I’m so ashamed. I hate myself for making you cry…”

Jungwoo kissed Taeil’s neck again, soft and chaste, lips lingering so softly and lovingly that his throat tightened with tears he couldn’t bring himself to let go of. “I tried to make myself be mad at you, but I can’t,” Jungwoo whispered at last.

“You should.”

“But I can’t. I just _can’t._ Taeil-hyung…” Jungwoo’s inhale sounded so choked and painful, his arms tightening around his waist as though someone were about to try and steal him away. “Please— tell me you’ll stay until the very end, because I can’t do this without you.”

 _Some day, you’ll have to._ Taeil nearly said it; maybe it would have given Jungwoo the incentive to hate him a little bit, but he couldn’t take even the thought of his lover’s tears. Being the reason for Jungwoo’s pain was breathtakingly painful in and of itself. “I’m not going to leave if I can help it,” he whispered against his better judgment, giving Jungwoo’s hands a squeeze. “But if if comes down to me or your career… tell me that you won’t throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for, because it’s not _fair._ I can’t take all that away from you. I’ll never forgive myself.”

Jungwoo was silent for a moment longer than Taeil was comfortable with, and his eventual answer was ominous: “When I have to make that choice, I’ll think about it carefully. Don’t worry.”

“Jungwoo—”

“Come eat. I made noodles.” Jungwoo changed the subject so deftly that Taeil couldn’t bring himself to argue; one final kiss on the nape of his neck, and Jungwoo’s grip finally loosened as he sat up. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

“All right.” Taeil shifted on the mattress, preparing to sit himself up, but a sickening wave of pain resonating from his head stopped him all at once. It had been a long time since he’d had a headache like this, one so severe that it seemed to throb not just in his brain but in his skull, too. “Ahh— on second thought, give me a couple minutes to wake up. Sorry. I’m not feeling very well.”

“Do you want me to stay here with you?” Jungwoo made as if to lay down again, lowering himself back to the mattress, and Taeil winced.

“Can you put some tea water in the kettle for me? I think it’s just jetlag, honestly. I swear, I’ll be fine.”

A cleverly calculated little trick for sure: Jungwoo sprung back up again, giving Taeil a single peck on the cheek before getting to his feet. “Okay, my love. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

Silence fell over the bedroom all over again. Taeil felt empty at the same time that he felt resolute: he was no good for Jungwoo, but breaking up wasn’t an option. It just _wasn’t._ He didn’t think he could even make himself say the words. He was a klutz, he ruined everything he touched, but he couldn’t even be man enough to ruin the one thing he knew that Jungwoo would be better off without. He sighed, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes as he tried to ignore the steady throbbing in his brain. It was always in the same place, right above his left temple, and it always conjured up the sickening memory of bone against wood, again, again, again.

 _Stupid,_ the headache seemed to taunt, in a voice that Taeil knew he’d never hear the last of. _Ugly. Worthless._

//

Taeil fully expected to go crazy, trapped in the dorm with nothing but Jungwoo and his own horrible anticipation— really, though, if he stayed distracted it wasn’t that bad. On the first day of waiting, Taeil decided to take advantage of his sudden block of free time by cleaning the apartment from top to bottom. The little things that he always seemed to put off, like scrubbing out the inside of the fridge and disinfecting the kitchen garbage can, felt oddly cathartic given their situation. Their lives were in shambles, their careers on the line, but at least there were no more _germs._ On the second day, Taeil cleaned out his closet, tossing the pants he’d gained too much weight for and the socks that had too many holes to bother wearing anymore. _Tomorrow, I’ll make a meal plan and a shopping list for the week. That’s a thing normal people do, right? I mean, probably normal_ housewives _mostly, but—_

This was the same strategy that he’d used when his father bit the dust, he realized passively, when he was feeling too angry to grieve. Maybe this was proof enough that he needed some counseling, but deep-cleaning his entire life was easier _and_ more productive.

Jungwoo, on the other hand, seemed detached from it all, and Taeil realized for the first time that while he was an expert in Jungwoo’s usual range of emotions, the way he closed himself off during a crisis made him impossible to read. He’d happily help sweep cobwebs from the ceiling corners and wash the window sills, but the one time that Taeil mentioned checking the comments online to see if the situation was dying down, he clammed up and simply shrugged in response, putting a little more elbow grease into scrubbing at a spot of dirt that just wouldn’t lift.

“I thought President-nim told us to stay off the internet?”

“I think she meant posting, Jungwoo, not using the internet in general.” Standing in the kitchen doorway while Jungwoo finished the last touches on the window and opened it up to let some air in, Taeil pulled out his phone for the first time that day— but then Jungwoo piped up before he could even open the web browser:

“Worrying about that stuff will only make you go gray sooner. Why don’t we go relax in my room until dinnertime? I’m working on some new lyrics, and I need you to be my muse.”

“Your muse?” Taeil repeated, slightly worried by his inability to keep from smiling. _I’m not supposed to be smiling right now. What the fuck is wrong with me?_ “And what, pray tell, does being your muse entail?”

“Oh, you know,” Jungwoo answered casually, with a grin of his own. “Making out with me and letting me write a song about it, that’s all.”

Taeil was _not_ supposed to be thinking about making out with Jungwoo when it was his own lack of self-control that had landed them on house arrest— and he _certainly_ wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it with butterflies in his stomach. But two things were certain: he’d forgotten all about checking out comments online, and Jungwoo had craftily gotten his way.

If he didn’t know Jungwoo better, Taeil realized later that night, with Jungwoo snuggled up and sleeping against his chest, he would have guessed that the singer wasn’t actually all that unhappy. His deep, peaceful slumber, with his arms wound around Taeil’s hips, was not the sleep of a person who was about to lose everything they’d ever wanted.

On the third day, out of nowhere, Taeil received a phone call from his mother. At Jungwoo’s insistence, he’d been cuddled up on the couch with his head on his boyfriend’s thigh, staring at the drama playing on the TV but dissociating a little too hard to truly consider himself to be _watching_ it. The angry buzzing of his phone against his leg was what lurched him back into reality and reminded him that there was more to the world than Jungwoo’s fingers hypnotically carding through his hair.

“Who is it?” Jungwoo asked a little too quickly, a little too nervously. _What news is he the most worried about hearing?_ Taeil wondered quietly, but then he glanced at his phone and put all of that out of his mind.

“It’s my mother. I’ll be right back.”

Shut away in the safety of his room, Taeil answered the call at long last, probably just before his phone would send it to voicemail: “Hi, Mom. How are you?” It felt so strange all of a sudden, so foreign, to be talking to his mother on the phone. When did it become like this? Why had everything just— _gone to shit,_ in every facet of his life? Taeil seriously had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from screaming. 

_“Taeil,”_ his mother’s voice sounded so far away that it made him uncomfortable. _“I just heard the news about Jungwoo. I saw that people were petitioning for his contract to be terminated, and then when I researched it— I saw the pictures of the two of you.”_

 _The two of you._ These words seemed to hit Taeil squarely in the chest, because in his mother’s voice, there seemed to be no doubt that it was him. Drawing a breath felt impossibly painful, and he nearly forgot to respond.

“There’s nothing to worry about. The company released a statement already— it’s not us in the pictures. It’s all seriously just unsubstantiated rumors, so don’t think too much about them. I’m not—”

 _“Okay. It’s okay. I was just wondering,”_ his mother went on, with a tone of reassurance that made him uneasy. _“The picture really does look like the two of you. It surprised me for a moment.”_ She paused, and Taeil held his breath, wondering what the _fuck_ he was expected to say next, when she went on softly, _“Your bed here is always open, if you need it. Don’t be afraid to come home. Nara and I would be happy to have you, no matter what.”_

There it was. The conversation had brought back to Taeil’s mind a barrage of slurs from his father, _homo_ and _faggot_ and _fucking queer,_ and images of how his mother had always turned her back out of fear of retaliation, pretending to hear nothing at all. Now she was saying, essentially— _if those things are true, then it’s okay with me._ And Taeil truly wasn’t sure how to process that.

“I don’t need to come home. Jungwoo and I are actually really busy— but I’ll let you know when I get time off again. Hopefully for Chuseok.” His breaths felt strangled; could she hear them? Suddenly he was paranoid, and his heart was racing in his ears. “I need to go. I’m really busy, but— I love you, Mom. Sorry to scare you.”

_“All right. Take care.”_

Taeil barely registered the silence of the call ending. He was too warm, breathing took a conscious effort, the scars on his hips were itching and tingling. _God,_ he hadn’t had a panic attack since his days with Red Velvet, but he’d never forget what they felt like, tearing into his chest.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out._ Every inhale was conscious, and took a great deal of effort. His heart was racing from the exertion. Maybe it would just explode and put him out of his misery. That would have been nice.

“Hyung?”

 _Fuck._ How long had he been sitting there by himself? Taeil blinked, suddenly taken aback by Jungwoo’s form standing in the doorway. How long had he been standing there, watching Taeil silently fall apart?

“Everything good?” Jungwoo asked when he didn’t respond, stepping into the room tentatively.

“Fine. Everything’s fine,” Taeil forced out, rejecting the pressure in his chest and forcing himself back into the moment. “Just my family checking in on me. Um… we should do something. Is there anything left _to_ do? Laundry? Why don’t we wash the bedsheets?”

“What?” Jungwoo seemed lost by the proposal, and then laughed softly in disbelief. “Hyung, don’t you know how to stop working? No— no more cleaning. Can’t we just relax and enjoy the day?”

No, because Taeil was incapable of relaxing and enjoying anything, _especially_ when he was trying to avoid letting his thoughts catch up with him. And if Jungwoo wouldn’t let him clean away his anxieties—

“Come here, then,” Taeil instructed shakily, reaching for Jungwoo. The idol shuffled forward, and the moment he was in reach, Taeil grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging him down onto the mattress with him. “Let me suck you off,” he all but ordered, hands deftly undoing Jungwoo’s belt as he kissed him.

“Oh...kay…” Jungwoo seemed taken aback, but didn’t stop Taeil from popping his fly open. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Of course.” Of course not. But it was a manager’s job to keep it together wasn’t it? With this in mind, Taeil looked up at Jungwoo through his eyelashes in a way that always seemed to make him go weak, and he held his gaze as he kissed the bulge forming in his boxers. “Just really want you, that’s all.” And then, to ensure no more questions, he took Jungwoo’s hand and guided his fingers into his hair, whispering, “I like when you set the pace. Don’t be shy…”

Two could play at the distraction game— but it made for a fragile relationship, one that was bound for failure. And the pressure of the industry had _barely_ even pressed on it. Thinking about it made Taeil want to cry, and so he tried not to think about _anything,_ pouring all his loving attention into the distraction that had just slid down his throat.

//

It was six days of alternating self-indulgence and self-torture before Taeyeon finally called Taeil with a plan: _“Unfortunately, the buzz hasn’t died down, so we’re going to switch you out— at least until people stop talking about it. We’re in the finishing stages of the hiring process for Jungwoo’s new manager,”_ she explained, voice sounding tinny and artificial through Taeil’s phone speaker. Jungwoo sat quietly beside him to listen in— his only insistence being to hold Taeil’s hand in his own, his grip tight. _“You’ll spend the next couple months, at least, here in the main offices. Got a chair in Talent Acquisition with your name on it.”_

Taeil’s chest tightened, his stomach feeling sour and empty. Worst case scenario would have been both of them getting fired, second to that would have been Taeil being forced to resign— so they’d both get to keep their jobs, that was good, but they wouldn’t get to keep _each other._ Being separated professionally meant that they would never have another truly private moment; it would all happen at the company building, with every eye on the room on them, no doubt. _I could text him, except I’m sure his new manager will monitor his texts, the way I’m supposed to…_

“You’re giving him a new hire?” he asked in an unintentionally monotone voice. _That_ was the other disaster, the implications of which had initially flown over his head. “I see…”

 _“Fresh starts for both of you,”_ Taeyeon went on with a grim sort of humor to her voice. _“I’ll do my best to keep you working, Taeil. Maybe when Aespa debuts this fall, you can step back into a management position, but right now, people are just too worked up about everything.”_

Beside him, still silent, Jungwoo’s eyes glimmered with white hot hostility— but Taeil didn’t acknowledge them, looking down at his lap instead. “Yes, President-nim,” he answered hollowly. “What about my living arrangements?”

 _“Regrettably, I can’t help you there. We don’t make arrangements for our office staff— but I can put in a good word for you at the apartment complex where the trainees stay. I think they have studios open,”_ Taeyeon reported, though she sounded a little too robotic to truly feel like she regretted anything _._ _“You can stay put until the end of the week. Jungwoo will need to start working again, though— he’s due to perform at two music festivals this summer, and he needs to start giving us songs if he wants any chance of his own material on his next album. Tomorrow, we’ll send separate cars for the two of you, his at 8 AM and yours at 9. As always, wear hats and masks. Continue to monitor the fan cafe and remove anything that alludes to… the unfortunate situation we’ve found ourselves in.”_

“Ah—” Jungwoo’s hand had been tightening gradually around Taeil’s fingers, but suddenly the pressure had become painful, and Taeil had to yank his hand away. “Sorry. I understand, President-nim.”

There was a moment of silence, which was worse than anything else up until that point. And then, perhaps the _worst_ thing that Taeyeon could have followed up with: _“You really liked him, I could tell. I’m really sorry, Taeil.”_

Humiliating, utterly humiliating. Taeil’s eyes stung and his ears burned, but he answered as impassively as he could manage: “It’s fine. This is what we signed up for.”

Everything was wrong, and that was perhaps the single most _wrong_ thing he could have said. The moment the phone call clicked off, Jungwoo’s voice broke the air, a malicious hiss: “You didn’t argue with her. You didn’t even _try_ to tell her that you wanted to stay with me.”

“We said we were going to go with whatever the company told us,” Taeil answered hollowly, taking all of his focus to hold his voice steady. “Remember? I told you that the night we got home from—”

“You told me that,” Jungwoo interrupted icily. “I didn’t agree to it. I _do_ remember you promising to stay with me until the end, though. I’m sort of wondering what happened to that.”

“What am I supposed to do? What do you think would happen if I argued?” Taeil demanded, burying his face in his hands in absolute exasperation.

“I don’t know! _Something!”_ Jungwoo snapped, pushing himself up off the couch and storming off down the hall towards his room. “If you don’t do something, I will. I’ll call President-nim and tell her that I won’t work without you. You might be replaceable to them, but they’ll have a hell of a time replacing me!”

“Jungwoo— _don’t you dare quit!_ If you quit, you’re an idiot!” Taeil’s voice quivered embarrassingly as he yelled after him, but then the apartment was _eerily_ quiet, with nothing but the beating of his own heart echoing in his ears. He kept straining to hear Jungwoo, but there was no sound or movement coming through the wall. (If he called Taeyeon and bitched up a storm, Taeil never heard about it, at the very least.)

Their days were numbered, and Taeil wasn’t about to fight it. He knew what happened when you fought fate, tried to rise above your station. Something, at some point, would smash you back down and leave you lower than you started— and so, this time, he’d back down gracefully.

“Are you coming to bed?” Jungwoo asked softly from Taeil’s bedroom door later that night, after the sun had set outside. Taeil hadn’t had the ambition to cook, and Jungwoo hadn’t mentioned being hungry, so they hadn’t bothered with eating or even talking. Taeil had done some half-assed packing of his belongings, but found himself after awhile unable to do much else besides look out the window and let the sad songs keep autoplaying from his phone speaker.

“I…” Taeil glanced back at Jungwoo, trying not to show any expression, and then glanced at the mess of assorted shit he’d put in his suitcase. “I thought I’d sleep in here. Would probably just be easier.”

“You’re being a real asshole, Taeil.”

Taeil couldn’t argue with that. All he could think to say was, “You have to speak formally to me.” He closed up the suitcase and pushed it angrily off the bed, only vaguely satisfied by the _thump_ it made when it hit the carpeted floor. “Why would I want to sleep next to someone who’s mad at me? Tell me _that.”_

“Because pretty soon, you won’t be able to, and you won’t have a choice,” Jungwoo snapped back, and as much as it pained Taeil to ignore the desperation in his voice— he swallowed his response and forced himself silent as he turned back to the window, to the city lights outside. “Fine. Have a good night,” Jungwoo mumbled after a few silent seconds, turning back to his own bedroom and leaving Taeil’s open doorway behind him.

Jungwoo, true to his usual nature in the face of stress, did not sleep— through the crack beneath his bedroom door, Taeil could hear the empty, aggressive sounds of guitar chords feeling their way through a new song. Lately, stress had been driving Taeil to need even _more_ sleep than usual, but he had a feeling that this would be a sleepless night, like the nightmarishly long bouts of insomnia that he’d had in high school. His skin itched and crawled, and the scratch of his nails across his scars felt too satisfying for comfort. He thought about messaging Sunyoung, but embarrassment won out, and he deleted the texts before he could send them. No _way_ was he going to talk to her about what happened, not that she didn’t already know.

The last time Taeil looked at the clock, it was 4:46 AM, and he was resorting to something that he hated himself for: Jungwoo’s second EP, the first song he’d been allowed to pen himself, _Take The Dive._ Jungwoo’s voice in those first notes, soft and low, soothed him from the first breath, no matter how angry he was— it was the misguided, meaningless, _juvenile_ reassurance that Jungwoo wanted to dive into him and know him completely.

 _“When my small world met yours, the waves rose around us._ _  
_ _Just one laugh, and you bloomed colors in my once-blank heart.”_

Why was that line so apt and familiar? Had Jungwoo really written those lyrics for _nobody?_

//

The next morning, just as planned, Jungwoo and Taeil made it to the SM building in separate vans. That was probably for the best anyway; Taeil couldn’t imagine the awkwardness of having to share a silent car ride together. Jungwoo had a concept meeting for his next album (now that he was a songwriter, he didn’t need Taeil anyway, he reasoned); Taeil, on the other hand, was slated to meet with his new boss and set up his new desk. Any other time, some half-assed office work might have felt like a welcome break from the hectic flow of everything, but he had to keep reminding himself to take breaths, all morning long. Otherwise, he was fairly sure he’d suffocate.

Towards the end of the morning, at last, Taeil was dismissed for lunch, which made him excited for all the wrong reasons. He wasn’t hungry, but he needed a few moments to stretch his legs and clear his mind, and if he happened to get a glimpse of Jungwoo wherever he was in the building… well, that would be an added bonus.

On the first floor, Taeil took a quick peek into the SM Cafe, which was bustling as usual; Jungwoo’s height always made him easy to spot amongst crowds, so it only took a moment before Taeil assessed that he wasn’t there. Maybe he’d gone into the studio— Taeil still knew his passcode, but what was he supposed to say if he let himself in? _Sorry I rejected you last night, sorry we have to break up. I just wanted to see your face. Yes, I’m being serious._

And then, while he was waiting for the elevator, Taeil happened to turn and peer through the large window behind him, which looked out onto the building’s front sidewalk. Taeyeon had told him that there would be protesters, but he hadn’t exected that there would _still_ be protesters, a group of girls in mixed school uniforms and street clothes, taking turns smashing Jungwoo’s albums and shredding his photobooks right there on the concrete.

 _This is all your fault, why do you keep forgetting that? How can you feel sorry for the both of you when you’re the one that did it? This is what happens when you get too confident in yourself, Taeil, you fuck things up._ Feeling suddenly nauseous, Taeil turned his back to the window and stepped into the waiting elevator with shameful tears rolling down his cheeks.

That night, Taeil beat Jungwoo home, and though he knew he should have packed his belongings, he found himself rummaging through the kitchen cupboards— they hadn’t gotten the chance to go grocery shopping since coming back from America, so the selection was pathetic, but there was still rice and canned tuna and frozen vegetables. The thought of eating anything made him feel sick to his stomach, but his skin was crawling, and if he didn’t keep his hands busy doing _something—_ well, old habits died hard. _Physical pain is a lot easier to deal with than mental pain,_ he’d explained to Sunyoung once, the only person he’d ever tried to put it into words for.

_Ahh. So you’re a masochist?_

_No. I hate pain. But if it’s physical, then there’s a cause I can pinpoint, and I know it won’t last forever. If it can distract me from what I’m feeling… well, why not?_

Jungwoo came home while Taeil was scrubbing the last of the dishes, the untouched rice getting cold already on the table. Taeil was silent, doing his best not to look Jungwoo’s way as he called out softly: “I made dinner. Come eat.”

Jungwoo stood still in the doorway, and somehow— out of nowhere, for no real reason that Taeil could discern, his energy felt so much like a _celebrity._ Even without a smile, he fucking _sparkled_ and he reminded Taeil of just how little he deserved him. This was the way things would have ended up anyway, right? No matter how hard Taeil tried, he didn’t belong with the stars.

“Sit with me,” he intoned, somewhere between an invitation and an order. Taeil thought it was laughable that Jungwoo might try to order him around, but perhaps even more laughable was the fact that he sat down at once, in the seat furthest from Jungwoo. “I met my new manager today,” he added, going to the cupboard for a second plate and some extra chopsticks before he sat down. “His name is Doyoung, and I cannot even _describe_ to you the size of the stick that’s shoved up his ass.”

The casual cheer in Jungwoo’s voice made Taeil want to laugh and cry in equal measure. He did neither, biting down on his bottom lip to make sure of it. “Yeah. President-nim told me he’s a new hire. He’ll probably be like that for the first year. Try and be nice to him, he has a hard job.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be here long enough to give him any real grief,” Jungwoo answered idly, picking up the plate of rice and using the chopsticks to divvy it up between them. Taeil nearly stopped him, but— but Jungwoo knew exactly what sized portion Taeil would be able to eat, and he knew to pick the pieces of celery out and put them back on the larger plate because Taeil hated them. _There aren’t many people who know me the way you do._

“Jungwoo, I know it probably seems like I’m being cruel, but you _can’t_ just quit.”

“I mean— you’re not my manager anymore,” Jungwoo pointed out, smile and eyes tinged with a bittersweet sort of mirth as he passed Taeil’s plate over. “You have no authority over me.”

“You trained too hard to throw your career away for a relationship,” Taeil insisted. He didn’t touch the food, too preoccupied by the fraying strings on his sweater sleeve. “The reality is— you might not realize it, but you’re young, and attractive, and _famous,_ and— you would have gotten bored of me anyway, sooner or later. If you leave the company and come with me, it’ll be a huge legal hassle and even so, we’re not going to _last._ Stick with your talent, _that’s_ what gave you all the opportunities you’ve had as an idol. Not me or the company or anybody else.”

It was just fact in Taeil’s head, and it had been for _months._ Jungwoo would leave, of _course_ he would leave, it was not an _if_ but a _when,_ and if Taeil didn’t step down now, he was going to fall and hurt himself. He didn’t think about the fact that this was all _new_ information to Jungwoo until the idol was staring at him in muted shock, and Taeil had to fumble with his chopsticks and take a bite of his food as an excuse to stop looking at him. It seemed to crumble in his mouth like sand, flavorless, and his throat was nearly too dry to swallow.

“Taeil,” Jungwoo spoke up after an uncomfortable silence (probably dropping the “hyung” deliberately to get his attention; Jungwoo was getting good at that trick). “I could point out everything that’s wrong with what you just said, but I don’t know if any of it would get through to you in the state you’re in.” _The state that I’m in?_ The words only puzzled Taeil, until Jungwoo reached across the table to take his hand, finally drawing Taeil’s attention to the angry red half-moon indents of fingernails digging into his wrist. _When did I do that? Oh my god, I’m losing it again._ Jungwoo wordlessly caressed the marks with his thumb, looking down at their linked hands for a moment more before he continued, “So I’m just gonna say this: I love you, Moon Taeil. I can’t make you believe me, but that’s the truth.”

The words hit Taeil like a punch to the gut, and he hoped Jungwoo didn’t hear the agonized little hiss of his breath as he tugged his hand back. The word _love_ had been bouncing around his head since the beginning, but he’d always been incredibly careful not to say it. But at the same time— he’d _dreamed_ Jungwoo whispering those words to him in a thousand different ways, and none of them had been so beautiful, none of them had cut him to his core this way.

“I—” _I love you too,_ it was so easy, he had the perfect opening to finally _say it_ and make everything else fall into place, but he simply couldn’t. “I’m so exhausted. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. We will. I promise. I just— I can barely see straight. I need to sleep.”

“Oh.” This clearly wasn’t the reply that Jungwoo was hoping for, his expression crestfallen. And then— “Do me a favor and sleep next to me tonight, please? I sleep better with you there.”

“They’re moving me soon, Jungwoo. That’s already been decided.”

“I know. This might be the last night. Doesn’t that make it all the more precious?”

 _No. No. It makes it all the more irresponsible. It makes us both idiots._ Taeil couldn’t say it, though; mainly because when he opened his mouth to do so, he was distracted by the _clink_ of his chopsticks dropping against his plate and a bittersweet surge of pain in his wrist. He looked down in surprise at his own fingers pressing on the marks, trying to play it off a second later by scratching a make-believe itch on the back of his hand. “I’ll— I’ll lay with you until you fall asleep,” he offered, against his better judgment. And then, a bold-faced lie: “I sleep better by myself.”

Taeil had no appetite, and left his food behind to go shower and put his pajamas on. He turned the water as hot as he could stand it— the vicious sting against his skin was almost enough to silence everything else for a little while, and he stood there in a daze and let himself boil until he no longer felt the pain from it anymore. Ducking into his room, he grabbed his most unflattering pajamas despite the heat, caught his own eye in the mirror and almost felt satisfied by how worn out and beaten down he looked. Every dark circle and stress pimple was deserved.

And Taeil was numbed, utterly numbed, until he stepped into Jungwoo’s room— the sight of him already comfortable in bed, moping under the warm twinkle of the fairy lights, awakened every emotional nerve and made them ache. He slipped into the bed at the edge, and reached for the light switch on the bit of cord by the bed, but hesitated. “I’ll leave them on, so I can see when I leave,” he excused, settling against the pillow and feeling his heart lurch as Jungwoo rolled naturally to face him, eyes closed. Like an invitation to take in his beauty one last time— which, of course, had been Taeil’s plan anyway.

Every ounce of pain that Taeil was feeling was self-inflicted. That was the kicker. _Just another dumb idea to cap them off. Oh well. What’s one more?_

“I’m sorry, Jungwoo,” Taeil whispered after a few silent seconds. “I really am sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you, and that the only way to right things involves hurting you more.” Bad decisions— he reached across the space between them and touched Jungwoo’s bare arm gingerly. “One day, I hope I’m able to put all of the things I’m feeling into words. I feel like there are so many things I need to say to you, and I’m not sure how.”

“You don’t need to say them now. Just don’t give up on me. Just promise me that you won’t.” In the time Taeil took to blink his tired eyes, Jungwoo’s forehead came to rest against his own, and he couldn’t shake temptation— when Jungwoo’s lips brushed so softly against his, with the timidity of a first kiss, he leaned into it and only his pride kept him from asking for more.

“I’m not giving up. That’s why you can’t give up either, okay, Jungwoo?”

The thing was, though, Taeil couldn’t use the word _promise. Promise_ would have implied that his mind was made up, but in reality everything was reeling, nothing was certain. Not even Taeil’s resolve to go back to his room once Jungwoo fell asleep— as soon as Jungwoo’s breathing slowed, Taeil allowed himself to move into his unconscious embrace, uneasy with the feeling that this really would be his last chance.

//

It was a rarity for Taeil to wake up before Jungwoo, but by the time his phone alarm went off at 6 AM, Taeil had been awake for awhile. Jungwoo’s arms were snug around his waist, his head resting on Taeil’s shoulder, his breaths dry and raspy, his bony knees digging uncomfortably into him, the vague suggestion of morning wood pressing against his thigh.

There was nowhere else Taeil wanted to be, and that was why he had to end it. That was why, somehow or another, this would be his last morning waking up in his absolute favorite place.

“Don’t get up yet,” Jungwoo mumbled sleepily, his arms tightening stubbornly and making Taeil snort in the barest amusement.

“You won’t have time for your run if you don’t go now.”

“Fuck it.”

Fair enough. Taeil didn’t argue— rolling enough to face Jungwoo and give him a little kiss on the forehead. Stalling was just fine with him.

Eventually, though, they had to wake. Jungwoo skipped his morning run and got right into the shower; Taeil went through the usual morning routine of coffee, scrambled eggs, a plethora of snacks packed in Jungwoo’s bag to get him through the day. They ate together just like always, except Taeil had no details of Jungwoo’s schedule, and Jungwoo didn’t seem to have it in him to make small talk otherwise, so the meal went on in silence.

Finally, while Jungwoo was wiggling his feet into his shoes, he thought of something to say, edged with a bitter humor: “I hate Doyoung even more than I hated you when we first met. I hope I don’t fall for him.”

Taeil was bewildered for a moment, and then he laughed. “You’d better not. You can’t afford to get in any more trouble.”

“Is that the only reason?” Jungwoo’s eyes were wide, prying for more, a step down from pleading. And— just once more, _just once more,_ Taeil would give him what he was looking for. He stepped forward to drape Jungwoo’s bag carefully over his shoulder, and he popped up on his toes for a kiss.

“And because you’re already mine. Hurry, now, don’t keep Doyoung waiting.”

Jungwoo blushed. _Blushed,_ starting in his cheeks and spreading to his ears, all while a goofy smile took over his lips. “Okay, hyung. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

Once more, Taeil opened his mouth to respond, but the words dried up in his throat. “Have a good day,” he answered lamely, in lieu of anything else, and he averted his gaze to Jungwoo’s shoes. Their last face-to-face memory couldn’t be Jungwoo’s heart breaking in his eyes, it just _couldn’t._

As soon as Jungwoo was really and truly _gone,_ Taeil had a laundry list of things to complete. The first was a phone call to Taeyeon, who sounded none too pleased to hear from him. She had to know that it was nothing good, and Taeil winced. _Sorry, President-nim. I’m burning a war path through everything you’ve worked so hard for, but I promise, this is the very last time._

_“Taeil. What is it?”_

“President-nim, I—” Taeil paused as he hoisted his suitcase back onto his bed and cracked it open again. This time, there was no more stalling, everything had to go in. “I wanted to let you know that I’m leaving the apartment today. I’ll make sure that everything is in order for Jungwoo’s new manager to move in when I leave.”

_“Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate it.”_

“I also wanted to tell you that… as generous as it is for you to give me a job in talent acquisition, I won’t be able to accept it.” Taeil’s throat felt tight and painful as he continued on, “I’m sorry to change my mind so suddenly, but continuing at SM will be difficult for me, and probably for Jungwoo, too. I don’t want to cause anyone any more difficulty.”

Taeyeon was silent, and Taeil winced, expecting anger— but instead, when her answer came, it was on the soft side of neutral, emotions purposefully held back: _“You’re not going to do anything stupid, now, are you?”_

“Not unless starting on a completely new career path at my age is considered stupid. I promise, I’m okay. I’m just— trying to _keep_ myself okay.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Will you send Doyoung back here tonight? I don’t want Jungwoo to be by himself. He’s the one to worry about doing something stupid.”

 _“I understand. Stay safe, Taeil.”_ It felt like there should have been more, _so_ much more, from a relationship that had persisted on such good terms for so long— but there were nothing but awkward spaces that neither of them could fill. Taeil hung up the call with a stomach ache, but as he packed up his clothes without even bothering to fold them, he had _one_ more call to make.

 _“Taeil?”_ Sunyoung sounded half-awake, and likely was. He could picture her, hugging the bed until the very last minute and then rushing to get ready.

“Hey, noona. I— I have a favor to ask. Sort of a big one, so don’t be afraid to say no if it’s too much. I just…”

_“Oh, God. I hate the way you’re phrasing this. Just ask.”_

Taeil took a deep breath that did little to soothe him. “I just quit my job with SM, and I’m not sure I can bear living with my mother again. Can I stay with you, just until I find somewhere else? A couple weeks, max.”

Getting caught wasn’t Taeil’s lowest point. Watching fans burn Jungwoo’s albums on the sidewalk wasn’t even his lowest point. It was this, having to grovel for a place to live while stuffing all his worldly possessions into a couple suitcases. He felt so pathetic, so worthless, so much like his father’s predictions were correct. Music was a waste, and Taeil would have traded every last second that he spent in that toxic industry in order to stop the self-loathing that he felt in the moment that Sunyoung said yes.

Finally, there was nothing to do but pack. With limited space and time, Taeil could only afford to take clothing and necessities. He’d leave everything in the kitchen and living room, his favorite mug, his tea collection, the blanket that he and Jungwoo always wrapped themselves in to cuddle on the couch— but when he looked up and saw that favorite cable-knit sweater of Jungwoo’s, tossed over the back of his desk chair, he felt a tight pain in his chest, and he knew that he had to take it, too. He picked it up and buried his face in the soft gray yarn, breathing in the lingering scent of Jungwoo’s cologne. Even with his heart racing, the familiarity of it made him feel safe, but he knew it would eventually fade.

And so, with a stab of humiliation unlike anything else he remembered, his last act before stepping out the door was to stop in Jungwoo’s room and grab the bottle of cologne off of his dresser. _Sorry, Woo. Someday, I’ll explain everything._

He only hoped that he had the strength to make good on his own promise.

//

That night, when Sunyoung got home from work, Taeil was waiting anxiously on her couch, but luckily she came armed— steaming hot styrofoam cartons of noodles, a bakery box of eclairs, and packaged up in a sturdy plastic tube, a single cannabis-laced cigarette. “I figured you’d be in need of this,” she offered in simple explanation, flicking the lighter once in demonstration.

“Where did you even _get_ this?!”

“Not telling you. I’m not a snitch,” Sunyoung replied easily, giving him a little smirk. “Listen, the best way to get over a break-up is to let yourself cry about it and then make yourself forget about it. Clearly, you’ve been doing the first step all day, so let’s work on repairing the hole in your heart.” She threw an arm around his shoulder, leading him to the balcony doors. “Trust your noona for once in your life, yeah?”

Taeil resented the sympathy, on the surface… but she was right, there was no doubt about it. He was thinking obsessively about Jungwoo, checking his phone, waiting for and dreading the moment when he would get home to an empty apartment. Imagining Jungwoo all by himself in his bed, imagining the tears that would most certainly come, made Taeil tear up himself, no matter how many times he conjured up the image. Sunyoung was right, he was _tired_ of it.

And so, at her recommendation: he sucked down half the joint, ate all of the noodles plus two eclairs, passed out high and numb, and woke up groggy and alone at 3 in the morning. He had six missed phone calls and three waiting voicemails, none of which he had the courage to confront.

_“I’m really sorry, Jungwoo. It was out of my control, Taeyeon texted me after you left for the day and asked me to leave. Just focus on what you need to right now. I’m going to be okay, and so will you.”_

If there were two things Taeil had become an expert at, thanks to Nara, they were little white lies and dodging text messages. But unlike his family, Taeil would never be _obligated_ to reconnect with Jungwoo. They’d both be okay, but separately. Taeil would let Jungwoo go, find another star to orbit— or maybe just let himself burn out and drift away as dust.

//

For about a month after leaving Jungwoo, Taeil couldn’t bring himself to think about music again. He’d work anywhere else, wherever would take him— library IT tech, bank teller, call center manager. Maybe he’d go to grad school. Wasn’t grad school just a temporary patch when he didn’t even know what it was he wanted to _do?_

Without his father to force him, maybe he’d just lay down and rot. That sounded easier.

Taeil’s commitment to anything was shaky. His resolve to return Jungwoo’s texts was even shakier. The only certain thing was that Taeil would be watching Jungwoo proceed with his next comeback through the eyes of a fan. _Married to the Music_ was slated for the beginning of August, and Taeil knew from the very first teaser that looking away wasn’t a choice. On some level, he needed to do it as a reassurance to himself that his lover was going to be perfectly fine on his own. _Better,_ even.

On another level, Taeil _wondered_ if he would be, and the thoughts made his stomach churn with uncontrollable anxiety. He felt like a mother bird who had pushed her baby from the nest and was watching in rapt horror to see if he would splatter against the ground.

“Married to the Music _will be Kim Jungwoo’s 4th EP, and is much anticipated by fans and critics alike after the roaring response to_ Press Your Number _earlier this year. Based on his showing on Produce X 101, few could have predicted not only Jungwoo’s vocal talents, but his addictive songwriting capabilities—_ Press Your Number _is widely regarded as a serious contender for Album of the Year, and we have nothing but high hopes for Jungwoo going forward! What do you think? Let us know in the comment section below!_

_[+1185, -396] As a Shooting Star since debut, I’m hopeful that this will be a great turning point after the chaos of this summer… of course, hate and rumors are just another sign that he’s made it big, but it gets so exhausting…_

_[+1129, -744] I have an insider contact at SM Entertainment… they deny the rumors, and yet apparently Moon Taeil is no longer working for the company at all… something there feels very strange. Did they fire an innocent man just to appease fangirls, or do they not believe their own statement??_

_[+380, -1998] No one support this faggot… this country is really going to hell if delusional teenage girls want someone like him.”_

With Jungwoo’s reputation swaying back and forth like a compass needle, _Married to the Music_ was released right on schedule. It was another of Jungwoo’s compositions, nothing that Taeil had ever heard before. He must have rushed to pen it in the time that they were apart, but it still felt as though he’d pored over every detail and made it all perfect. The song, the lyrics— _“Even at your smallest movement, my world starts to dance,”_ they proclaimed, _“You conduct me.”_ And elsewhere: _“Let me look into your eyes, let me breathe you in, let’s toss the bad times into the wind and let them float away.”_

He looked exquisite. _Breathtaking._ The first time Taeil saw the photos, he was glad that Sunyoung wasn’t there, because he would have been embarrassed by the time that it took to drink in every detail. It was another drastic change in Jungwoo’s style, from soft sensuality to chic, bold, almost dangerous. Hair dyed back to black. Leather pants accented with metal studs. Thick eyeliner and the glimmer of a piercing on the side of Jungwoo’s nose— was that just a glued-on fake? That couldn’t be real, right?

The music video was cheeky and fun, scenes of Jungwoo trying to impress a girl at a party. Of course, he was naturally charming and sweet as ever, and to Taeil it seemed unrealistic that he never caught her eye in the end— Taeil wouldn’t have been able to resist him in that get-up, might have had to pull him back in the dressing room and risk stealing a kiss if he had been there. Thinking about it hurt, made his chest feel hollow. For the first time in days, he sent a text to Jungwoo, painfully impersonal, because the guilt was overwhelming: _“Congrats on the comeback!! Your MV came out amazingly!!_ 😊”

 _“I miss you,”_ Jungwoo’s text returned almost instantly, the bluntness hitting Taeil’s stomach like a punch to the gut. _“When can I see you? Please tell me, I feel like I’m going crazy.”_

Taeil must have read that text over a thousand times. And then he didn’t respond, because he didn’t know how. It must have been okay, though, because Jungwoo didn’t pursue it.

Taeil didn’t _want_ to keep watching after that. He unfollowed Jungwoo fan accounts on Twitter, even clicked “not interested” whenever one of Jungwoo’s comeback stages was recommended to him on YouTube. But he ended up watching the first two stages anyway: the first out of morbid curiosity (he was just going to click to see that Jungwoo looked healthy onstage, but he ended up watching it from start to finish), the second at 4 in the morning in a moment of absolute weakness.

He’d been awake for most of the night, woken by a nightmare he could scarcely remember that had left him sobbing and breathless. He’d gone outside for a cigarette, and when that didn’t stop his hands from shaking, he’d went into the bathroom and allowed himself _one,_ as a consolation— one thin, shallow cut along his hipbone, easily cleaned and bandaged. The pain had grounded him, but it had also made him feel like shit about himself, and so he’d reluctantly laid down and watched Jungwoo’s latest Music Bank stage just to give himself something _positive_ to focus on until his eyes finally felt heavy enough to doze for a few minutes.

And then the next evening, while Taeil was wandering the kitchen like a zombie, fumbling with the last of the dinner prep, Sunyoung came home with a funny sort of look on her face. She sat down to Taeil’s fried tofu that she usually adored, but she only poked at it a little and took a couple noncommittal mouthfuls of rice before asking, “Have you been on Twitter today?”

“No. I deleted my Twitter,” Taeil answered, feeling his spine prickle with unease. “Why?” The question hung between them, unasked but implied heavily enough. _What happened to Jungwoo?_

“Jungwoo went on Vlive last night. You should watch it.”

 _“Sunyoung—”_ With something like that, something so ominous, how could he _not?_ He set his food on the coffee table and scrambled for his laptop, opening it up and typing frantically. If it was anything even remotely scandalous, it was bound to be removed from the app itself, but it was almost certainly immortalized on YouTube or Twitter. “Why wouldn’t you tell me right away if there’s something up with Jungwoo!”

“He’s not hurt or anything,” she defended herself as he clicked on the video in question. “He just— well, he caused a lot of waves within the company. President-nim is scrambling.”

The video was set before the familiar backdrop of Jungwoo’s bedroom, the decorated shelves built into the wall where he kept his CDs and collectibles. He was bare-faced - a sight so wistfully familiar to Taeil that it made his chest ache - wearing his glasses and holding his bangs out of his face in an unattractive little ponytail puff. He was quiet for the first minute or two, reading comments and greeting fans a few times with the smallest of smiles on his face. _“Sorry if I seem tired tonight. I took off my makeup already… it’s late, but it’s been a really long time since I’ve talked to the fans like this. And now since my manager is sleeping…”_ A long pause, Jungwoo’s eyes seeming unusually dull as he read the new comments that popped up, and then he confirmed, _“My new manager. Not Taeil-hyung. Too many people complained, and I guess he’s not in the company anymore, and—”_ The quality took a sudden dip, but the way Jungwoo blinked extra-hard, Taeil could imagine that he was trying not to cry. _“I’m still heartbroken.”_

This was already too much for Jungwoo to say (Taeil never would have allowed it as his manager), but of course he wasn’t finished. The next time Jungwoo opened his mouth, his answer came with complete certainty, as though he had no shame: _“I can understand people burning my CDs, if they’re so offended by who I am. But the people who demanded that Taeil-hyung leave… You might have had my best interests at heart, but it’s still frustrating. So many people seem to think that he took advantage of me, but— I’m an adult, you know, you can trust me to take care of myself. We knew exactly what we were doing. Hyung is the last person who would have hurt me.”_ Jungwoo’s eyes flickered to the bedroom door off-camera, as though waiting for Doyoung to come and interrupt his stream; luckily or unluckily, Taeil wasn’t sure, nothing happened and Jungwoo continued, _“I wrote_ Married to the Music _for him. I wrote it in a little less than two days, which is a record for me, I think… I didn’t really eat or sleep, I just worked and cried, I cried a_ lot… _and I thought about how I’ll have to go back to writing about feelings I’ve read in romance novels. I didn’t have enough time to make lots of memories with Taeil-hyung, before this fucking company—”_ He seemed to catch himself at the cuss, his eyes widening and his hand coming up to cover his mouth. _“—oops. Doyoung-hyung would hit me if I ever talked so freely in front of him.”_

“Noona, how much trouble is he in?” Taeil demanded, his voice quivering. Jungwoo had looked well on-stage, styled and made up, but here, he looked on the verge of a breakdown.

“I checked in with Doyoung,” Sunyoung admitted without explanation, averting her eyes. “They took Jungwoo’s phone away, and he’s back on lockdown. He was supposed to be on _Running Man_ next week, but the show called and cancelled. Now SM is debating whether or not to cancel his promotions entirely.” When their eyes met again, she must have seen the heartbreak in Taeil’s eyes, because she shook her head quickly in reassurance— “I know that Doyoung is new, but he’s _super_ responsible. He’s doing everything he can to protect Jungwoo. And— Jungwoo might be upset, but he’s not completely reckless. He _has_ to know better than to push things any more.”

Knowing better didn’t _mean_ anything, Taeil wanted to scream; he knew better, he knew how addictive and how destructive cutting could be, and they didn’t stop _him_ from digging up his nasty old habits. He and Sunyoung both _knew_ better about smoking cigarettes together, too, and drinking soju on the weekends until the sun came up, but both kept doing it and swearing that this one was the last pack, this one was the last time. If a person was hurting, then no _logic_ would stop them from trying to rid themselves of the pain.

Taeil had been struggling to detach himself from Jungwoo’s pain, but suddenly it had smacked him squarely in the face. Jungwoo was hurting, and it was Taeil’s own fault, and it wasn’t _fair_ for him to run and leave Jungwoo with the burden of these emotions he hadn’t asked for. He closed his laptop, buried his face in his hands, and started to hyperventilate.

“Babe,” Sunyoung spoke up evenly, rubbing his shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension, “I think you’ve taken this a little far. Why don’t you call him up and try to talk things out? I know you think you’re doing him a favor, but—”

“I don’t want him to lose everything, noona. I can’t have that shit on my conscience. It’s— it’s _not fair.”_ His fingers slipped through his hair, gripping and giving a nice, satisfying pull. The pain made him gasp, reminded him to breathe deep.

“I think breaking up was the right choice for you and I,” Sunyoung answered after a delay, her voice low and restrained, as though she were thinking about saying something else entirely. “At the time, anyway, we both had other things that we wanted to chase more. But that doesn’t mean it’s the right choice for you and Jungwoo.”

“It has to be. He’s— he’s a _star.”_

Sunyoung had the audacity to laugh; the sound was scathing, but as far as emotional pain went, it had a refreshing sort of sting that Taeil could somehow appreciate. “Dumbass,” she whispered affectionately, giving him a squeeze. “Do you think the universe cares about details like _that?”_


	10. Hiatus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No song notes for this one, just a plea for mercy because editing hard @_@ Oh and I guess a word of warning that this chapter features a rimjob that I am in no way equipped to write but my roommate was dead-set on Taeil getting his ass ate because he's sure been through a lot and he deserves it.
> 
> Twt @AO3RinAngel

Taeil’s story felt like a thousand pages.

Before twenty-eight there was twenty-four, sitting at his father’s funeral, miserable and cynical and lost; there was twenty-one, delusionally attached to Sunyoung but inexplicably empty inside; there was sixteen, scared of the possibilities and scared of failure, with no greater comfort than the razor he kept hidden in his jewelry box; there was eight, laying in bed and trying not to cry and wondering when mommy and daddy would stop fighting and go to sleep.

There was almost nothing useful in Taeil’s past, nothing that he cared to recall. The memories of his friends in grade school brought him pain. Suji had become an idol without him—  _ Suzy _ had become an idol without him, more accurately, and hearing her music on the radio made him feel brutally nostalgic for a happiness he hadn’t deserved. There had been more benign memories with his family, but everything was swept through with an undercurrent of darkness. There was his seventh birthday party, which he stumbled through in a state of dissociation, because all he could think about was the scene after dinner the night before, when he’d seen his father grab his mother by the throat. There were nights of studying in Nara’s room, his high school textbooks spread out across her Hello Kitty bedspread, because she didn’t want to listen to the yelling and the raging downstairs all by herself. She was lucky, she barely got hit, but she was such an empath that it seemed to destroy her whenever Taeil did.

Despite never wanting to revisit these unpleasant times— for reasons he couldn’t name, he wanted Jungwoo to know about them. He wanted to open himself and let Jungwoo run his fingers over every word, every crease, every tear.

_ “You’re beautiful,”  _ Jungwoo had whispered, that night in the hotel, after they’d showered together and he’d allowed Jungwoo to see him in the bare flesh. As promised, Jungwoo hadn’t mentioned his scars, but he touched them just like they were anything else, grasped Taeil’s hips just as firmly and kissed him just as passionately.  _ “You’re beautiful just because you’re you. And— and I’ve never felt this way about someone before, hyung…” _

Jungwoo was beautiful in such an objective way, with his sculpted muscles and his trim waist and his  _ sizeable  _ assets, that it almost didn’t feel fair. All Taeil could offer in return was a subpar body marred with sad stories that nobody wanted to hear. But maybe Jungwoo would understand, still, if Taeil told him why he loathed himself so much and probably always would.

Taeil caught himself thinking about it one night at 2 AM, cleaning the wounds on his hips with drunkenly uncertain hands— thinking that maybe he’d never have the chance to tell him, maybe he’d drink too much or cut too deep one of these times and put and end to it. That thought cut deeper than his razor could reach. As he limped back to bed with his body aching and his mind dull but clear, for the first time in years, he wished in earnest that he wouldn’t wake up.

//

Unemployment was more tiring for Taeil than working had ever been. He wanted to work, he hoped Sunyoung believed him when he said that— it was that he  _ couldn’t,  _ for the first little while, he became anxious at the very prospect of leaving the apartment. Normally, sleep erased all his problems, but sleep was suddenly  _ incredibly  _ hard to achieve. He was constantly watching the clock and trying to guess what Jungwoo was doing, trying to convince himself that he was probably too busy to reply to any of Taeil’s texts  _ anyway.  _ He’d probably stopped thinking about him. The Vlive was a fluke, for  _ sure. _

When the two-month anniversary of Taeil’s resignation came into sight, though, he knew that he needed to find a job and a place of his own. By this point, Sunyoung had started saving the job listings in the newspaper for him, and his back was putting him through hell every morning after another night curled up on her old couch. Finally, he started to submit his resume wherever he could to score some job interviews, and he did his best to  _ not  _ look like the scummy person he felt like when he showed up to them.

On that unseasonably cold September evening, he was returning from an interview with the executive department of a phone service provider, for a job that he didn’t exactly understand— mostly seemed to be moving numbers from one spreadsheet to another, but hey, he was sure he was smart enough to figure it out. He’d bundled himself up to take the scenic way home, past a few apartment buildings that he’d seen online listings for, just to gauge his choices. The truth was, the thought of living completely on his own sounded scary. Going home to a completely empty little studio, bitter and jaded and miserable, chain smoking until he couldn’t feel anything else, eating greasy takeout and passing out in front of the TV like a zombie. Without Sunyoung coming home at 8 PM to eat a meal with him almost every night, what else was there? _I’ll just have to visit often,_ he resolved sadly, snapping a picture of a rental sign with his phone so he could remember to call later

Finally, he arrived back at Sunyoung’s door— the cold always made the latch stick, and it took a little extra force to jam it open. It wouldn’t budge at first, and he swore quietly as he gave it a harsh shove. His weight suddenly forced the door open all at once, making him stumble as it swung inwards and took him with it. Luckily, he didn’t fall—  _ luckily,  _ indeed, because he could hear that Sunyoung was already home, talking on the phone in the kitchen. She didn’t need any more evidence of how completely clumsy he was, and how it seemed to always be getting worse.

“Ah— that must be Taeil now,” he heard her say softly as he took off his shoes, followed by the clink of a mug against the tabletop. Wait, she  _ wasn’t  _ on the phone? “I’m just going to—”

“Of course,” another voice responded, barely audible, but still familiar enough to shake Taeil to his core. He froze, one shoe on and one shoe off, when Sunyoung appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Noona, you  _ didn’t—” _

“He wore me down, okay!” Her answer, though barely more than a whisper, held an intensity in tone that made him think better of arguing. “He came to me like  _ three times,  _ asking if I knew where you’d gone, and I couldn’t just keep  _ lying.  _ You’re going to give him a mental breakdown.”

Taeil had broken out into a cold, uncomfortable sweat, and he shook his head before he could even think about it. “I can’t believe you— I’m  _ not ready.” _ His head hurt, his eyes stung, though he didn’t realize that it was tears until Sunyoung was holding onto his shoulders and forcing him to look at her, utterly humiliating him in the childlike way that she had to talk to him:

“He’s not here to hurt you. He’s here because he’s worried that you’re hurting  _ yourself.”  _ The deliberateness in her tone made him flinch. There was no way she could have known about the cuts, he always cleaned the bathroom spotless after and hid his razors in his suitcase— but she could have guessed. Maybe his brokenness was just that transparent. “You disappeared without an explanation, and you only texted him when you felt like it, which is even worse than not texting him at all. I support you, Taeil, but if you’re going to break up with him, then doesn’t he deserve the dignity of a face-to-face interaction?”

Sunyoung was right, because Sunyoung was  _ always  _ right. Hadn’t she been right from the  _ beginning,  _ when she’d told him not to get involved with Jungwoo at all? He owed them both this, he thought sourly, to be the bigger person, to prove that he was a man and not a worm.  _ Are you watching, Dad? You raised someone who has to be bullied into treating someone humanely. Are you proud? _

“All right. I’ll do it. Just— can I do it by myself?”

Sunyoung’s lips twitched, as though she wanted to smile, though this was hardly the time for it. “I’ll wait in my room, then. You can do this, Taeil. I know you can.”

Sunyoung’s confidence didn’t make Taeil feel any better. It wasn’t Sunyoung’s heart that he had to deliver the killing blow to. He held his breath as he stepped into the kitchen, trying to brace his heart for something he knew he wasn’t ready for: the image of Kim Jungwoo, sitting tall and proper at the table before him, fingers playing nervously along the handle of his coffee cup. He was still startlingly handsome in person, glamorously thin from his short period of promotions, black hair swept back off his forehead, eyes still sweet and doe-like despite the dark circles shadowed beneath them. Oh, and those nose stud— it was real, apparently. If Taeil hadn’t been terrified, he would have stopped to admire it, because it really did suit him.

“Hi.” Jungwoo managed a smile, a nervous little smile with no teeth showing, one that felt very unlike him.

“Hi,” Taeil replied lamely as he sat down, rubbing his windbitten cheeks while Jungwoo poured him some coffee from the tray Sunyoung had set for them.  _ How long was she planning on doing this?  _ He wasn’t sure what was stronger, the irritation that she’d gone behind his back, or the shame that she’d  _ needed _ to.  _ I really am that pathetic. _ “I, uh— I’ve been watching your promotions! It’s too bad that they got cut short. It’s— it’s an amazing song.”

“I’m glad you had enough time to watch me, considering you didn’t have enough time to return 90% of my text messages,” Jungwoo replied, softly but not exactly coldly, splashing just the right amount of cream into Taeil’s cup. He sounded like he wanted to scold Taeil but couldn’t bring himself to— like an exasperated mother explaining to her child that she  _ “wasn’t mad, just disappointed”. _ “You didn’t have to see me,” Jungwoo went on when Taeil didn’t answer. “But hearing  _ anything _ substantial from you would have been cool. Knowing you were somewhere safe. Maybe getting a phone call returned even  _ one time  _ in two months?”

_ Just yell at me, Jungwoo. I deserve it.  _ Jungwoo’s exhausted, hollow voice dragged through Taeil like a serrated blade, and he actually whimpered, lowering his head apologetically and clasping his hands in front of him. “I’m sorry, Jungwoo. I’m  _ so  _ sorry, but— I was going to hurt you either way. It might have seemed cruel, but I thought that in the long-term, you’d do better off without me. That was why—  _ that was why  _ I told you not to put yourself in jeopardy.”

“And why is that, Taeil?” The younger addressing him so casually never failed to make Taeil shiver; it was visible as little ripples across the top of his coffee, and the observation made him set the mug down a moment later. “Why do you always try to decide on your own what’s best for me? I told you what I wanted—”

Jungwoo had been so strong up until that moment, when he was cut off by his voice cracking. Suddenly, more than anything, Taeil craved one of Jungwoo’s hugs. The tight squeeze of arms around him, keeping him safe, while he clung to Jungwoo’s muscular frame and deluded himself into thinking that the man in his arms was indestructible.  _ But he’s not. He’s hurting right now. I need to break up with him, and I need to do it gently. _

“Jungwoo, listen—”

“No,” Jungwoo spoke as firmly as he could, but he couldn’t completely eliminate the tremor in his voice. “Let me finish what I need to tell you. Then you can break up with me, if that’s really what you want.” Taeil was left speechless, unable to formulate even a word, and Jungwoo continued on quietly, “President-nim wanted a commitment, one way or another— either I commit to following the rules of my contract, or I come to a settlement with SM and buy my way out of it. Since I didn’t know what your plans were— since I  _ still _ don’t— I’ve talked her into suspending everything for two weeks and giving me a little time, but I can’t wait forever.”

Separating emotion from logic was always the hardest thing when it came to Jungwoo. Taeil might not have been Jungwoo’s manager, but he was as committed to his lover’s career as ever. There was only one answer that made sense from that perspective: breaking up and putting as much distance between them as they could. But desire was hard to ignore, and if he were honest— there was nothing in the world that Taeil wanted more than Jungwoo. For a moment, he could picture himself saying  _ to hell with it,  _ taking Jungwoo’s hand and stepping out into the unknown. After everything he’d been through, was there anything left that could  _ hurt? _

“That was your cue to say something!” Jungwoo suddenly snapped, whipping Taeil back out of his imagination and into the moment. “I don’t understand why you’re being so indifferent when  _ you  _ were the one who wanted  _ me _ badly enough to kiss me! What happened to make you suddenly stop giving a shit? Was it when you realized that being in a relationship is  _ work?  _ When it occurred to you that I wasn’t just in this for kissing and sex and playing house?”

Taeil felt utterly humiliated by the tears in his own eyes. He tried not to flinch away from the feeling, tried to let it consume him, because it was probably only a fraction of what he deserved. “That’s not what I wanted from you,” he could only insist, voice choked and hoarse. “I promise.”

“Well, what else am I  _ supposed _ to think when you’ve all but  _ run away  _ from me?”

_ I’m supposed to be breaking up with him,  _ Taeil thought helplessly, watching as Jungwoo’s mask finally shattered in two— finally in tears, trying to muffle his misery with his hands. But Taeil couldn’t do it, he couldn’t say those words, any more than he could bring himself to reach out and choke the life out of Jungwoo with his hands. The thought made him weak with horror. He couldn’t,  _ he couldn’t. _

And so he did what felt natural, which was to go to Jungwoo— standing awkwardly at his side for a moment, running his fingers through the idol’s hair just like he’d done for Taeil through so many moments of anxiety. “You’ve worked so hard, Jungwoo. I didn’t want to watch you throw out your career, not for  _ this.  _ But you’re right, I should have listened to you instead of shutting you out. I guess… I figured that you’d learn to be okay without me, eventually…”

Jungwoo flinched away from Taeil’s touch in the first moment, but when he recognized the uncertainty in Taeil’s voice, the inability to commit to his own decision, it seemed to stir something in him. His arms slipped around Taeil’s waist all at once, yanking the smaller man into his lap and burying his face in his shoulder— the tightness of the embrace made Taeil wince, caught off-guard by the pressure against his cut-up hips, but the pain gave him something safe to focus on, just like when he inflicted it on himself. He hugged Jungwoo tight around the neck and pressed his face into his hair, his own breaths shaking, and he allowed himself a merciful moment of no thoughts or worries.

No, he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t sure why he ever thought he could, not when Jungwoo’s arms around him felt like morphine.

“I hate being without you,” Jungwoo sobbed quietly, gasping between words. “I hate feeling alone, and I hate having to smile like nothing’s wrong on camera— a-and— I hate that everyone sees you as this monster now— I hate Doyoung, and I hate Taeyeon, I hate  _ SM Entertainment—”  _ His shaking fingers curled into the fabric of Taeil’s shirt, as if scared that he’d try to wriggle away, prepared to hold him by force. “I-I don’t know when it became this way, b-but— at some point, I started doing this all for  _ you,  _ Taeil-hyung. I-I— I just  _ love you,  _ and the rest feels—  _ empty.” _

“I know, Jungwoo— I know it’s hard.” Taeil’s grip hadn’t let up, his fingers still combing their way lovingly through the younger’s hair while Jungwoo whimpered and sobbed and hiccuped, “And I’m sorry— I’m so sorry for making you suffer by yourself. I’m sorry for making you feel so alone.” His lips brushed against Jungwoo’s forehead, just against the start of his hairline, comforted beyond words by the familiar smell of his shampoo. “You said you have two weeks? Then let’s take these next two weeks together, and we’ll figure out exactly what to do.”

Jungwoo sighed, and in just one sound, the tension fell away from his shoulders. His lips found the dip of Taeil’s collarbone, then the side of Taeil’s neck, and then his earlobe— seeking out all of these places pointedly, as though he’d missed kissing them, a thought which made Taeil smile without meaning to. Jungwoo pulled back slowly, eyes misty with tears but bright with a sweet liveliness that Taeil couldn’t help but think of as his essence, his very being. Their gazes held for a single glorious moment, and then Jungwoo’s eyes closed and his lips puckered— and only when he opened one eye to peek at Taeil’s face did Taeil realize that he was waiting for a kiss.

A few seconds late— better than nothing.

_ You’re going to be the end of him, _ Taeil’s conscience nagged, as one kiss turned to two, turned to three, turned to Jungwoo’s tongue slipping into his mouth and his fingers tracing teasing little patterns at the base of Taeil’s spine.  _ One day he’ll look at you and wonder why he gave it all up. _ Taeil knew that the voice in his head was probably right, but his brain felt bubbly and light, practically  _ electrified,  _ like an addict getting the first taste of his fix in far too long.

He was too tired for self-control. Once more, he’d earned a lapse, he told himself; another magical moment to be selfish.

//

When Sunyoung crept out of the bedroom half an hour later, all she needed to do was take one look at Taeil and Jungwoo curled up together on the couch to know that Taeil’s plans had fallen through. There was no judgment either way, though, no praise or admonishment: just a ghost of a smile and an invitation: “I’m calling for takeout. Any preferences?”

“Order whatever you like, and I’ll pay you back for all your help by putting it on my credit card,” Jungwoo offered. “Whatever you get, just get a lot of it. My manager practically starves me these days.”

Taeil could feel that Jungwoo had lost weight, but he’d politely said nothing, just as Jungwoo had probably noticed and pointedly ignored the smell of cigarettes on his clothes. There were so many things that needed to be discussed, but after Jungwoo had cried himself into an exhausted, quivering mess, they’d agreed not to  _ talk _ until the next morning. After that they’d kept it to mundane things, and sweet things, and Jungwoo had held Taeil close and let him lay against his shoulder, playing with his hair in the way that always made the older melt.

Sunyoung plopped herself in the recliner as she looked up the restaurant’s number on her phone; still, it didn’t take long for her prying eyes to make their way over to them again, and when Taeil offered no explanation, she addressed Jungwoo instead, innocently: “Have the two of you figured out how you’re going to run away from SM Entertainment and start your new lives together?”

Reassuringly, Jungwoo slipped his arm around Taeil’s waist. “I haven’t  _ quite  _ worked out all those details yet,” he joked, quiet but pointed in his delivery. “But I will. After all, they can’t keep me forever. Especially if I keep pissing them off.”

_ “Don’t keep pissing them off.” _

“Do it. I think Taeyeon is a bitch,” Sunyoung supplied helpfully. “Anyway, how does pizza sound?”

When it got late and Taeil was beginning to have trouble staying awake, he asked Jungwoo if he preferred the couch or the recliner to sleep, at which Sunyoung snorted and replied that she would be right back, she was going to change the sheets on her bed for them to share. (To be fair, there probably wasn’t a couch in the world that Jungwoo would be able to stretch his legs out completely on.) “It’s just for a night, right?” Sunyoung checked, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “Just don’t fuck in my bed, and we’re good.”

There was no danger of that. It felt strange to enter her bedroom at all, let alone to the sight of Jungwoo sprawled across the bed in one of Taeil’s oversized hoodies. The sight made Taeil want to cuddle more than anything, to bury his face in Jungwoo’s chest and breathe him in. (Stealing his cologne was a short-sighted decision; sprayed directly on Taeil’s clothes and without Jungwoo’s natural scent behind it, it felt flat and artificial and burned his sinuses.) “Don’t worry, we’ll go to my mother’s house tomorrow,” he revealed reluctantly. “There’s more space, we’ll have our own room, and it’s out of the way, so hopefully none of your fans will stumble onto us there.”

“Wherever you want to go is fine with me,” Jungwoo was as agreeable as expected, but he was vibrating with that unchecked energy that he sometimes had when he got antsy. Taeil settled himself in the soft sheets, and just like always, Jungwoo wrapped himself around him and nuzzled against his shoulder. “I missed you so much. I was worried that things would feel different, but— they feel exactly the same.”

The sentiment was meant to be warm, and it  _ was,  _ artificially so. It was sweet and then bitter, ended with a prickling worry that  _ eventually,  _ Jungwoo would take off his rose-colored glasses and realize his mistake. Things could only stay the same for so long, and then life would go on.

//

Taeil and Jungwoo left early, before Sunyoung even woke for work; Jungwoo packed up his own and Taeil’s belongings without complaint, letting Taeil tidy the kitchen and living room as one more tiny act of gratitude.  _ Sorry to leave so early— need to catch my mom before she goes to work. I promise, I’ll let you know what happens, _ Taeil jotted down on the chalkboard hung by the refrigerator.

“What’s your family like?” Jungwoo asked to break the silence while they were in the back of the cab. He wore a mask and a hat to protect his identity, only his eyes visible, wide and bright. “Are you going to tell them that we’re… together? I’m a little nervous.”

At any other point, Taeil would have been, too. Had his mother not called him and assured him that it was okay to come home— had his father been alive— no, he couldn’t even fathom the idea of Jungwoo and his father in the same room.  _ This is the best case scenario, I suppose. _ “It will be okay,” he answered certainly, reaching down to give Jungwoo’s knee a tender squeeze. Jungwoo was silent, clutching Taeil’s hand, eyes still imploring; he managed a tight smile, adding, “My mom is a school guidance counselor, and my younger sister Nara just started working as a preschool teacher. They’re, um— they’re really compassionate people. And they’ll love you.”

It was barely nine AM when they arrived. Taeil truly wasn’t sure whether to expect his mother home, given that it was a weekday— but when they stepped through the front door, he could hear movement in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes being put away and the whistling of the tea kettle.

“Taeil?” Hearing the sounds of them taking off their shoes and coats, she peered into the entryway, brows raising in surprise. She was dressed for work, in a long dress and subtle makeup; seeing her looking so much like he remembered from his childhood made him instinctively lower his head and his eyes in respect. “Ah. You brought a friend home with you? Perfect, I just boiled water for tea. Come in and sit down.”

Suddenly, Taeil  _ was _ scared once again, and when his mother returned to the kitchen, he felt a chill shoot down his spine. Maybe he’d miscalculated, maybe he’d been too confident. But then Jungwoo touched his shoulder delicately, his hand so warm and steady— “Which way is your room? I’ll bring your suitcases up for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yeah, but I need a minute. And it’ll give you and your mom a minute, too.” Jungwoo smiled softly, braving a kiss on the forehead— and Taeil couldn’t resist one on the lips, so quick that it might as well have never happened.

“Upstairs, all the way at the end of the hallway,” Taeil offered after a moment, managing a smile. “Thank you. Really. I—” His breath stopped, suddenly, on the precipice of saying it.  _ We haven’t even talked yet. I want to, but I shouldn’t.  _ “I appreciate it,” he covered a moment later, and Jungwoo grinned.

“You’re so cute. All right, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Taeil stepped into the kitchen, watching his mother place two more tea cups on the table.  _ She said “no matter what”. I hope this is what she meant.  _ “Mom,” he spoke up quietly, finally losing the ironclad control he’d been forcing all morning. His throat felt tight, and he had to pause and breathe for a moment before admitting, “I lied to you before. About Jungwoo, about the pictures. He and I are— I think we might be in love, and we’re trying to decide right now if we want to stay together.” He couldn’t look at his mother, couldn’t stomach whatever her reaction might be— he turned and busied himself with grabbing the honey from the cupboard by the sink, and he continued on shakily, “We need space away from the company where we can talk, and think, and I was hoping that you would allow us to stay here for a week or two. I— I can give you money in return. I’m really sorry that I haven’t been sending you anything, but it’s been— a really hard summer.”

“Have you been apart from him all this time? Since those photos were leaked?” His mother asked patiently; in her usual way that he’d never failed to appreciate, she could see through all his ramblings and ask the questions that were important. He and his mother were the same sort of person, he knew— she’d always been able to communicate with him well, even when everything was at its worst. “Taeil, where have you been staying? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’ve been at Sunyoung’s,” he confessed softly, finally meeting her eyes. Suddenly it was hard to hold it together, and his eyes stung as he went on softly, “I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to tell you I’d lost my job. I didn’t want to tell you— that my father was right about me. That’s all.”

“Didn’t I tell you to come home if you needed to, no matter what?” His mother blinked hard, as though close to tears herself, but managed not to let any spill. It was a strength he really wished he’d inherited, and he felt a flash of shame for being so emotional. His mother sighed as she went on, slowly, “Maybe I didn’t convey it strongly enough, though I tried to— none of the things that your father tried to shame you for have ever mattered to me. After all the grief that he gave you, and all of the dreams that he never let you pursue… I just want you to be happy.” Finally she looked away, pouring steaming hot green tea into each waiting cup, and finishing, “You don’t need to pay me to stay here. This isn’t a hotel. This is your home, and you and whatever guests you like are welcome here.”

Taeil didn’t reply— no words seemed good enough, no apology seemed sincere enough, for the woman who had been waiting all this time for a chance to finally make him feel welcome in his own family.  _ I need to visit home more. Nara’s right. _ A little shudder seized him as he blinked hard: forcing out the tears that he could, and forcing back those that he couldn’t, trying to clear his eyes with his sweater sleeves and focus on slowing his breathing. He didn’t have long, he knew. It was only about a minute before he heard his mother speak up with artificial brightness: “Sit wherever you’d like, Jungwoo. Are you hungry? I would have made breakfast if I’d known that you were coming— but there’s some homemade biscuits and jam here that you can help yourself to. Taeil’s sister made them yesterday.” She didn’t sit yet; Taeil had noticed ever since his childhood that his mother made sure everyone was served and happy before relaxing herself, and he could see that the habit hadn’t left her.

“Mom, why don’t you sit?” Taeil was still reeling, but after his moment of weakness, he was determined to re-compose. He sat himself down next to Jungwoo, who was indeed helping himself to food, seeming thankfully at ease. If he wasn’t panicking, Taeil reasoned, neither would he. “Woo, I just filled my mom in on everything. She said we can stay.”

Of course, that meant more than giving them a place to sleep for the next few days; the message that the two of them were welcome there just as they were was not lost on Jungwoo, and almost at once, his hand found Taeil’s under the table. “We really appreciate it,” he replied with a gracious bow of his head. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you out while I’m here, okay? Taeil-hyung can attest to my inability to cook, but— anything  _ else.” _

“It sounds like you’re on a break from work! And from what I’ve seen, both of you already work far too hard. You don’t need to worry about a thing while you’re here,” Taeil’s mother insisted, finally taking the chair across from Jungwoo and giving her still-hot tea a ginger sip. “If you wanted to do something for me, you could always fill me in with stories from the last year and a half. Taeil is always so tight-lipped when it comes to work. I barely know what he does from day to day.”

Taeil had half a mind to protest— it wasn’t that he was  _ hiding  _ anything, it was that his day-to-day operations were so  _ boring  _ most of the time— but Jungwoo jumped to respond before he could, even delaying his first bite of his food so that he could speak: “Hyung’s just  _ like that!  _ Isn’t it frustrating? I can just talk on and on about pretty much anything, though, so I guess that’s part of why we’re a good couple. If we both talked as much as I talk, we’d have a big problem.”

At this, Taeil had to laugh quietly. “We’re a good couple? That’s news to me.”

“We’re a great couple,” Jungwoo confirmed with confidence, running his thumb once, soothingly, over the back of Taeil’s hand.  _ It’s so much better, having him here. Maybe this isn’t a mistake after all. Maybe this is exactly what we need.  _ “We can help each other out, then,” Jungwoo continued on, and Taeil forced his focus back to the conversation just in time to catch, “I’ll tell you everything there is to know about Taeil right now, and you tell me what he was like before I met him. I’ve always been curious.”

His mother smiled at once. “I have photos,” she answered simply, and Taeil whined, pinching the bridge of his nose.  _ Embarrassing—  _ but at the same time, he could remember an eerily similar conversation between his mother and Sunyoung on one of those first dinners at his house, he suddenly realized. His father hadn’t seemed to have any opinion on his son’s first serious girlfriend, but his mother had loved Sunyoung— it seemed that she’d love anyone who made him happy, and he supposed that made him pretty lucky.

//

It was easy enough to settle into the euphoria of being back together— the sound of Jungwoo’s voice, his affectionate little smiles and subtle touches whenever he was within arms’ reach— but then Taeil was hit with the reminder that he still needed to hash things out with Jungwoo, he’d  _ promised. _

Luckily, his mother’s presence bought him some time, and after she left for work, he bought himself another few minutes by setting to work preparing lunch. Jungwoo seemed happy to help, cutting up vegetables and setting the table, but he was unusually quiet, and Taeil didn’t miss the burning of his eyes whenever he thought Taeil was otherwise distracted. When they sat down across from each other, silence settled on them, and Taeil had to take slow breaths to quell his urge for a cigarette.

“I know I said we’d talk, but truthfully, I don’t know where to begin,” he confessed after a minute, eyes on his plate. “Maybe you should start. Maybe you should tell me… what you’d like to have happen next?”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Jungwoo caught Taeil’s eye with a smile, but it was a  _ weak  _ smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “There’s a lot of things that I never told you about myself. All these nights we’ve been apart, I’ve wondered if being honest with you could have made you understand the way I feel.”

Jungwoo had secrets?  _ I thought Jungwoo was an open book. _ At this point, the food in front of Taeil was the last thing on his mind, and he set down his chopsticks altogether.

“I decided that I wanted to be an idol shortly after my mother died,” Jungwoo began calmly, with enviable ease. “My mom didn’t leave the house much while I was growing up. She would stay home with me and play with me all day, and I would  _ beg _ her to sing and dance with me. She taught me all the old classic songs, and so many choreographies, and how to pose for pictures…” He smiled out of nowhere, bright but wistful. “My mom told me I was perfect exactly how I was. She was sure I was going to be famous someday, and I took it to heart. I made my dad enroll me in dance classes the week after her funeral. My dad was never crazy about the idea. He didn’t understand why I wanted to be in such a demanding line of work, but really— it’s because after my mom died, there was no more love at home. There was just this overwhelmed man that was too busy to try to understand me, telling me that I was too flamboyant and too effeminate and too weird. I thought I would find a sense of love in dancing, the way I had when she was alive.”

Taeil nodded. “I think I know what you mean,” he dared to contribute, voice feeling weak. He certainly knew what it was to get a taste of something, and spend the rest of your life chasing that first high. “Do— do you think you found it?”

Jungwoo giggled, and Taeil wondered if he was imagining the flush of color in his cheeks. “Yes, actually. I do.” It was such a simple answer, but those two words shot straight to Taeil’s core and jellified his insides. “And it scared me at first, too. I sat on the feeling for longer than you probably realize; I think the first time that I thought of you that way was before  _ View  _ promotions, that night that I got piss-drunk and cried. I was worried that I was making a mistake out of loneliness, the way my mother had, and I kept going back and forth— wondering if that was a door worth opening. As much as I wanted to be like my mother…  _ you know.” _

That was a good point. The similarities between their lives were uncanny; both became famous young, both burned bright at their peaks, both shot down by a scandal, a secret relationship with their managers.  _ Jungwoo was eight years old when she died. It only took eight years for Jieun to go from brightest star in the sky, to suicide by overdose. _

Jungwoo couldn’t end that way. Taeil would never recover if he did.

“So yes. When you left, it was a relief at first,” Jungwoo went on patiently; always so patient, with eyes that never left Taeil’s face. “I thought it was an easy escape from feeling the way I felt. But things only got  _ worse,  _ they got so much worse— I don’t know if I can  _ do  _ this without you.” He let out a forced little snort, too brief to be considered a laugh. “But that’s okay with me, Taeil, because I found what I was looking for, and in the end, it has nothing to do with being an idol. That’s my reasoning.  _ You _ are the thing I was looking for.  _ You _ are the person who can bring back the joy and the love and the energy that I used to feel, and that’s why I want you to stay with me.”

It was a lot to take in, Taeil could hardly grasp it all. He felt like he was still scrambling for purchase as Jungwoo went on, calmly: “I’ve made my case for why I want to stay with you. Why don’t you make your case for why I shouldn’t? And if your argument is ‘my career’, then you’re best just surrendering now, because I won’t accept it.”

_ Why is he so good at this? He’s like a goddamn lawyer.  _ Taeil sighed, finally managing to bring himself to take a bite of his cold food as a means of stalling. Not a very good one— swallowing was difficult.

“Don’t you think you would regret it someday?” he asked quietly at last. “Your trajectory was perfect, until I fucked everything up. You were  _ going somewhere,  _ and to let it all be blown for a relationship like this… Relationships are volatile, and sometimes feelings just disappear. Sometimes connections just…  _ die _ without any warning, and you wake up one day wondering what the fuck happened.”

“Sometimes relationships last a long time, though. There are couples who met at our age and are still together forty, fifty, sixty years later,” Jungwoo objected when Taeil trailed off. _ “Sometimes,  _ lots of things happen, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do anything out of fear. If I thought that way, I wouldn’t be an idol, would I?”

“And there’s a reason why you are and I’m not,” Taeil retorted, as calmly as he could. “You’re— you’re a  _ remarkable  _ person, Jungwoo, and I’m not. You would be so bored with me. You could do so much better. One day, I’m sure you’ll see that, and I don’t want that to happen too late— because then we’ll both suffer.” The heat of Jungwoo’s eyes on him was suddenly too much, Taeil couldn’t take it— he had to pace, had to tidy. Luckily his mother had left clean dishes to put away, and he set to work at once. “I’m sorry. I know it probably sounds really stupid.”

Jungwoo straightened up, watching Taeil with bright, curious eyes.  _ Say something. Tell me it’s not stupid, _ Taeil wanted to plead in the silence, but when Jungwoo opened his mouth, his words caught Taeil unprepared: “Why do you think I’m somehow better than you? Do you really think that you don’t deserve me?”

_ Because it’s the truth,  _ Taeil wanted to scream, before a sudden, sharp ache in his skull made him stop and drag in a breath. He couldn’t answer this with any degree of honesty, because he could barely think the word  _ father,  _ let alone say it. Several seconds of silence passed - and Jungwoo  _ let  _ them, never pushing or prompting or demanding an answer - before he finally managed a weak, breathless answer: “I can’t tell you. I just know that you are, and that I don’t.”

The silence hung over them like a predator, and Taeil had trouble being quite so patient. He wanted Jungwoo to say something; to agree, to disagree, to argue, to tell him he was spineless, to grab him and shake him and  _ make him speak,  _ maybe. But Jungwoo did none of those things, did  _ nothing _ until he stepped quietly behind Taeil and hugged him tight, instantly numbing the pain with just a touch.

“For what it’s worth, I feel like you’re perfect for me.”

It wasn’t worth anything, these were  _ objective  _ facts, Taeil wanted to argue. Jungwoo could do  _ so  _ much better than him— but it seemed counterintuitive to argue against a truth that was everything he could have hoped for. His knees buckled, his body shuddered, and he turned to hide his tears in Jungwoo’s shoulder.

_ Maybe you’re perfect for me, too.  _ The thought was so out of character that it felt artificially implanted, but Taeil grabbed onto it before it could slip through his fingers and held on tight.

//

Crying was painful, shameful, and exhausting, but it also left him placated— a feeling of temporary, artificial peace. They napped together that afternoon, a luxury that Taeil had nearly forgotten; that evening, Jungwoo met Nara (who seemed appropriately star-struck, despite adamantly scorning everything about idol culture), and the four of them shared a cozy dinner with unexpectedly easy conversation. Jungwoo was a natural entertainer— and after being stuck with Doyoung for an entire promotional period, who seemed about as fun as wet cardboard, Taeil could imagine that he was eager to socialize with somebody new.

Afterwards, while Taeil cleaned the kitchen, Jungwoo got his promised look at Taeil’s baby pictures in the living room. The low cadence of happy voices, the occasional burst of laughter— they felt out-of-place in that house, made it almost feel like a home.

It was a little strange to have Jungwoo in his childhood bedroom, but only for the first minute or two. The night was cold, and Jungwoo was his most favorite space heater— and just like always, his lover knew exactly how to embrace him, kissing him in that sweet, earnest way that made every other thought in his head fade to a background hum. Taeil’s breaths quickened when Jungwoo kissed along his jawline, he shivered with arousal when the younger’s thumb teased his nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt. The world seemed a million miles away, and all that mattered was there in that bed, until Jungwoo pinned Taeil’s shoulders gently to the mattress and shifted to straddle his hips. The pain was immediate, deep and throbbing; the pain afterwards always seemed to be so much  _ worse _ than the cutting itself.

“Ow!”

“Are you okay? Whatever I did, I didn’t mean to,” Jungwoo quickly lifted his weight off of Taeil, supporting himself on his arms, looking down at him curiously.

All at once, Taeil’s mouth went dry, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “I— I hurt my hip yesterday, I slipped in the shower. It’s still pretty sore. Maybe not tonight, Woo. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize for turning me down. It’s totally fine!” All at once, a complete 180° turn: Jungwoo melted off of him and back into the sheets, pulling Taeil gently against his chest. “If it keeps hurting, I think you should go to the doctor. I’ll go with you if you want— you hate doctors, that’s why you never go even when you’re sick, right? You’re secretly such a scaredy cat. It’s so cute.”

It was always a step forward, a step back; Taeil lay in bed that night feeling just as worthless as he’d felt when he’d woken up that morning. Maybe this was it. Maybe Jungwoo would grow, and Taeil would spiral. He pressed himself against Jungwoo, pressed his face into his chest, and practiced saying the words, but they did nothing to ease his heart without Jungwoo’s voice responding that it was  _ all okay. _

//

“Just because we’re in hiding, that doesn’t mean we can’t do something fun before we have to go back to real life, right?” Jungwoo came out with this early in the morning. 7 AM, to be exact, curled around Taeil in bed with the morning sun shining beautifully in his eyes. “Let me take you somewhere. It’s well outside of Seoul. We’ll wear masks and take the train— nobody will follow us.”

“Jungwoo— what are you talking about? Where do you want to go?”

“Just trust me.” Jungwoo’s hand raised to Taeil’s cheek, brushing against him so tenderly. “I think some sunlight will do us both some good.”

And so with just a couple hours’ notice, Taeil was packing a hiking bag at Jungwoo’s request, lunch and bottles of water and sunscreen; Jungwoo bought the mystery train tickets on his phone, and revealed only when they got to the station that they were going to Mokpo.

The train ride was nearly three hours, but Jungwoo was in good spirits, and Taeil found his own mood lifting to match. Masked and behatted, they were inconspicuous towards the back of the train, and Taeil smiled as Jungwoo gently pressed one of his earbuds into Taeil’s ear.

“I’ve missed having you in the studio most of all. Want me to show you all the sad songs I wrote for you while you were gone?” he asked gently, eyes crinkling on the narrow strip of his exposed face.

“Why did it take you so long? I  _ always  _ want to hear what you’re working on.”

Their fingers twined, Jungwoo hit play, and Taeil closed his eyes. The thing he’d always loved about music was still true: it took you away.

From the train station in Mokpo, Jungwoo led them along to the bus stop, seeming to know the route by heart. The city dissolved around them, and Taeil found some of the tenseness leaving his shoulders as he watched trees breeze by. How many nights alone had he longed for the quiet intimacy of their Jeju trip, the rare moments where the cameras were put away? Jungwoo was right about one thing, they needed sunshine.

And at last— “Yudal Mountain,” Jungwoo told him at last, voice a low murmur against the background of music in his ear. “Fresh air and exercise are the best cure for creative slumps— my mom taught me that. The only trip I remember taking with my mom and dad together, it was here. It’s a beautiful hike. It might be a little cold today, but that only means we’ll have more privacy.”

It was true that there weren’t many people in sight when they arrived at the mountain; and, Taeil noted with pleasure, they didn’t receive any second glances from those that they passed. Jungwoo’s hand sought out Taeil’s as they walked, and Taeil was confident as he let their fingers twine.  _ I wonder if we could live like this every day,  _ he thought in wonder, walking in silence and taking in the startling quiet of the air.  _ It wouldn’t be perfect forever. Nothing is. But still… _

“I forgot how much I liked the outdoors until today,” Taeil remarked, smiling a bit as Jungwoo let go of his hand and turned his attention to the ground. There weren’t many fallen leaves yet, but he gathered the most perfect of them that the came across, the uniformly red or yellow ones without holes or rain-rotted edges. He’d let his mask down to breathe the fresh air, and Taeil supposed he could let himself do the same. If they were photographed together again— well, it would have to be sasaengs hiding in the trees, Taeil mused, and this thought kept him glancing up above their heads whenever he thought of it.

“Me too! This is one of my favorite places!” Jungwoo grinned, glancing up himself to see what Taeil was looking at, but only getting an eyeful of sun breaking through the cover of branches. “I was seven when we came here. It was the summer before my mom passed away, and I remember her saying the same thing.” He hesitated for a moment, the only sound became the sticks cracking under their sneakers and the low whistle of the wind, until he finally spoke once more: “Is it okay if I tell you something about my mother?”

Taeil smiled. “You don’t need to ask. Of course it is.”

Jungwoo’s eyes flickered with a trace of nostalgia, his lips turning up just the tiniest bit; Taeil hadn’t known what to expect, but the contrast in Jungwoo’s words felt so sudden that he was unprepared: “I told you that my mom didn’t go out much or work when I was little… but I didn’t tell you that it was because of her illness. I didn’t have a word for it until after she passed away, but my mother was bipolar. She’d be sunny and happy and energetic for weeks at a time, and then she’d— turn off like a light, that was how I thought of it. Her mood would just drop, and she’d stay in bed all day, and my dad would have to bring me to work with him, which I hated.” His hand found Taeil’s again—  _ shaking. His hand is shaking. _ This little observation caught him by surprise, but before he could even look, Jungwoo went on, “I had to watch her get worse and worse as I grew up, but I just remember how happy she looked the weekend that we came here. My dad insisted on keeping her ashes, but honestly, I took some and I brought them here when I was in high school, and scattered them… probably illegally.” The memory made him chuckle, and Taeil too, though more out of surprise on his end. “And I haven’t made it back since then, because training ate up all my free time, but this has been on the top of my to-do list for quite awhile. So… thank you for coming here with me.”

The story left Taeil a little bewildered, out of nowhere, but the ending sentiment did not escape him.  _ He brought me here because it’s special to him, and because I’m special to him.  _ He didn’t know why the realization washed over him as strongly as it did, because Jungwoo made his love for Taeil known with every touch and glance, but— there, in the overwhelming quiet, without another soul around, there was something that felt so genuine about it all.  _ This is how much I mean to him.  _ “Thank you for bringing me,” he replied shyly. “I know how hard it is to talk about these sorts of things…”

“Yeah, I know you do,” Jungwoo replied with dry amusement, nudging Taeil’s arm with his elbow. “I keep hoping that me opening up will help you open up. I want to know you beyond the manager that takes amazing care of me. There’s a human in there, with a story, and I want to know it.” Silence settled between them for a few seconds more, with Taeil’s mind wiped blank by Jungwoo’s honesty, before the singer continued quietly, “You know a bit about my mom and dad. I know your mom now— she’s really cool, by the way. She’s funny. And she loves you a lot.” He hesitated with every few sentences, as if waiting for Taeil to bite— suddenly, he knew where this was going. “She told me that you and your dad used to fight a lot. Why is that?”

“Jungwoo…” Taeil sighed, letting go of his hand for just a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you want to hear about that stuff. It’s in the past. Can’t we  _ leave _ it there?”

Jungwoo pursed his lips, as if in slight irritation. It was an expression that always set Taeil’s heart racing with anxiety, and he was almost thankful when Jungwoo lowered his eyes. “You know, that period we spent apart… every time you ignored a text, I would brace myself to hear from Sunyoung that you’d killed yourself. Maybe that just speaks to how fucked up I still am from losing my mom, but… it made me realize that there’s a huge part of you I barely know. If you didn’t have those scars on your skin, I wouldn’t know anything about you at all. I don’t know… sorry. This was a terrible place to try and have an emotional breakthrough. I hope I didn’t ruin everything.”

“No. Don’t be sorry,” Taeil whispered instinctively— and this time, enveloped in utter quiet, he felt no reservations about leaning in to press a tender kiss to Jungwoo’s cheek. “I know. I know I’m hard to love, Jungwoo. I just can’t talk about it— yet.”

Jungwoo grinned, no longer looking like he was on the edge of tears. “You’re hard  _ not  _ to love. You’re a teddy bear, and I love you  _ so  _ much.”

Telling Jungwoo would be the ultimate act of trust— it would be like asking him to nurse a long-festering wound and trusting that he wouldn’t do anything more to make it hurt.  _ He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t hurt me. I should be brave and just say it. _

“You don’t have to worry about me killing myself,” he managed at last. “I can promise you that, one hundred percent. As long as you want me at your side, Jungwoo, then I’m not going anywhere.” And though he couldn’t do it yet, though he wasn’t  _ quite _ ready to let Jungwoo hold his entire heart in his hands— he’d give him the piece that he knew the younger had been waiting for. “I love you, too. And while I can’t quite understand why you’ve waited around for me all this time… I won’t make you wait forever, I promise.”

“Oh my  _ god—” _ Jungwoo’s exclamation came out with a squeal at the end, and he stopped walking abruptly, yanking Taeil’s hand and pulling him back into his embrace. “Hyung, you said it so  _ cute!  _ Say it again. At  _ least  _ a hundred more times.”

_ “Jungwoo, my bones.  _ You’re so much stronger than you think you are!” Taeil laughed quietly in relief as Jungwoo relaxed his grip slightly. It  _ had  _ felt relieving to say. And now that he’d said it once without his heart exploding, he really  _ could  _ say it a hundred more times, a  _ thousand  _ more times. Maybe that was all it took, saying it once. “Why don’t we look for somewhere to sit down and eat? And I’ll start working on saying ‘I love you’ a hundred times, if you promise to tell me some stories about your mother. I want to hear about the happy memories. Raise the mood a little.”

Jungwoo beamed, and Taeil swore, he threw his beautiful light in every direction like a mirror ball. The way it took his breath away… yes, Taeil thought faintly to himself,  _ this  _ was a choice he could stand behind.  _ As long as you want me at your side, then I’m not going anywhere. _

//

Of course, the days weren’t all easy. There were discussions that went nowhere, like what Jungwoo would do if his contract went under (“I’ll do music somewhere else,” he replied vaguely, with no mention of how he’d buy out his own contract); there were meetings with lawyers (one who told Jungwoo, bluntly, that his case was doomed, but then asked him for an autograph for his daughter— awkward); there were nights that felt perfect, kisses that made his heart soar, until Jungwoo’s hand drifted too far down his waist and reminded him of the monster lurking below the surface. His urges to cut had dwindled once again, but that couldn’t undo the damage that was already there, healing not nearly as fast as he’d hoped.

During the beginning of Jungwoo’s second week off, Sunyoung called Taeil with an invite to get together, which Jungwoo all but accepted on his behalf. “She’s the entire reason I was able to find you again,” Jungwoo reminded him with a cheeky grin and a kiss. “Of course, I’d like a chance to properly thank her.”

Sunyoung reserved a private room, then, at a small Korean barbeque joint in a less crowded part of Seoul. When they stepped in to meet her, she wore all the signs that she’d just gotten off work, her signature messy bun with her glasses balanced uselessly on her head— but she grinned anyway, and stood up to hug Taeil as though it had been months instead of days. “Hey! Oh, you look  _ great—”  _ And when Taeil raised an eyebrow at the surprise in her voice, she added as an unwavering explanation, “—you look like you’ve actually been sleeping. I’m happy for you!” When she let go of Taeil, she hugged Jungwoo too, seeming to catch him off-guard with the gesture.

“We’re doing great!” Jungwoo insisted with a little smile.  _ “Better  _ than great. Taeil-hyung’s mom loves me!”

“Good for you!” Sunyoung cheered brightly, and while they took their seats, she poured two shots of the soju she’d already ordered for the table. “I’m not supposed to say anything like this, I’m sure, but President-nim is going  _ crazy _ without you there. They’re making the most half-assed preparations I’ve ever seen to debut a new girl group, just in case you don’t come back.”

Jungwoo said nothing as he sat, which surprised Taeil; he glanced up at his boyfriend, and followed the scrutiny of his gaze to Sunyoung’s neck, watching her self-consciously adjusting her turtleneck collar. It had been awhile, he’d nearly forgotten about Jungwoo’s knack for spotting hickeys.

“I can’t  _ believe  _ you.”

_ “Stop  _ looking at me like that, you little troll,” Sunyoung shot back indignantly, her cheeks reddening in a way that made her instantly look tipsier than she probably was. “I’m not an idol, I can do what I want. And now that I don’t have my ex-boyfriend living on my couch— I’m free to  _ spread my wings.” _

Taeil had to stifle a smile. “Do I even want to know?”

“Not unless you want to hear me describe the  _ gross  _ sexual tension between Sunyoung and Doyoung,  _ every freaking day  _ that we spent in the studio for my last EP.” Jungwoo tutted softly, shaking his head in dismay as he teased, “All the managers in this company are so  _ easily distracted.” _

Sunyoung raised an eyebrow, looking Taeil’s way as she inquired, “You  _ told him  _ SM Entertainment is a shithole full of overworked, underpaid zombies, didn’t you? Seriously, you wouldn’t give a  _ fuck  _ about me and Doyoung if you knew what kind of stuff Kibum and Taemin got up to. But  _ anyway—”  _ She raised her full glass and waited for Jungwoo and Taeil to do the same before she went on, only  _ slightly  _ flustered: “When do you come back to the company building for negotiations? If you haven’t seen the news this morning— you might have some new bargaining chips.”

_ If you haven’t seen the news.  _ For some reason, those words made Taeil’s stomach instinctively clench, and his heart started to pound. “What do you mean? Something didn’t come up about Jungwoo, did it?”

“Not Jungwoo,” Sunyoung answered simply, smirking.  _ “Holland.  _ To date, the only openly gay K-pop idol. He had his first win yesterday on Music Bank. I’m surprised you didn’t hear! It’s a big deal.” Their glasses clinked, a bewildered and silent  _ cheers;  _ Sunyoung was the only one to knock back the soju, while Jungwoo and Taeil could only meet each other’s gazes, wide-eyed with shock.

“A music show win doesn’t mean all that much,” Taeil said at last, doubtfully, lowering his glass. “I mean, maybe to the  _ fandom,  _ but…”

“The fans were the ones who put him there,” Jungwoo interrupted, with a sudden grin on his face. Without a moment more of hesitation, Jungwoo brought his glass to his lips and emptied it in a single gulp.

“And if he has the fanbase for that, then there’s no reason you can’t,” Sunyoung concluded confidently. “You know that the company only cares about one thing, and that’s money. They don’t have moral stakes in this. Gay, straight— it doesn’t even matter if the general public likes him. Outrage publicity is still publicity. What matters to SM Entertainment is whether or not your fans will stick.”

_ This  _ was certainly something to think about. Tentatively, Taeil lifted his glass and took a sip; the sting of the alcohol made him wince, and Jungwoo giggled as he leaned forward without reservation to kiss Taeil on the cheek.

“Well, I’ll just have to convince President-nim that I’m worth keeping, then, won’t I?”

“You say it like it’s so easy,” Taeil retorted. He didn’t  _ mean _ to sound like a party pooper, but, well—  _ It’s just realistic. Everything is going to be harder for you with me at your side. Why don’t you seem to care?  _ He chewed on his bottom lip, keeping his hand still on the table as Jungwoo wiggled his own beneath it and twined their fingers together.

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Jungwoo fumbled his phone out of his pocket, and Taeil felt his heart speed up. He was getting ready to protest if Jungwoo tried to take a selfie, because he fucking  _ hated  _ having his photo taken— but then Jungwoo surprised him by simply turning the camera on their joined hands. “Do me a favor, hyung. Keep an eye on the fan cafe.”

“Jungwoo,  _ don’t  _ get yourself in trouble—”

Sunyoung shrugged. “He’s already in trouble. How much worse could it get? I say go for it.”

“Besides,” Jungwoo chimed in, “I’d rather be on the bottom with Taeil than on the top by myself. And that’s all there is to it. Even hyung can’t convince me otherwise.”

The simple, non-identifying picture of their linked fingers was given the vaguest of captions:  _ “I hope all my fans are having an amazing night. I know I am.”  _ It didn’t stay up for long.  _ Someone  _ on SM’s staff had it removed before their food arrived to their table, but on the internet— even a minute, even a few  _ seconds,  _ were enough. And if Jungwoo was confident… Taeil had the strange feeling that perhaps he was right to be.

//

Jungwoo had slightly too much to drink, but that was okay, because Sunyoung had  _ way  _ too much to drink. She had to lean against Taeil’s shoulder while they waited for her cab, her arm slipped comfortably around his waist just like old times, though the feeling was remarkably different.

“Hey,” she whispered in his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck him up. He deserves it.”

Taeil didn’t dignify that with an answer, and  _ certainly  _ hoped that Jungwoo didn’t overhear. They  _ still  _ hadn’t, and thinking about the inevitable made his stomach bubble with anxiety. He couldn’t just hide his cuts forever. _ Eventually, somehow, Jungwoo will know. _

And of course, once they’d safely seen Sunyoung off into the night, Jungwoo’s hand found Taeil’s, tugging him tantalizingly close in the twilight chill as he implored, “Let’s get a hotel tonight, baby. I bet it’ll be easier to create that  _ romantic ambience  _ without worrying about your sister hearing us through the walls?”

And so that was how they’d ended up there, in an expensive hotel room booked in Taeil’s name on Jungwoo’s credit card— and while Jungwoo made the room comfortable, Taeil insisted on showering before doing anything, as usual. The bathroom was entirely too nice, too, and Taeil gave himself a  _ long  _ stint under the hot water, focusing on the sting of his scabbed-over cuts. Even once they healed, they’d stand out against all those that had faded, marks of his own failure.

And all Jungwoo had asked, all Jungwoo had  _ ever  _ asked, was for honesty. Taeil owed him that. Jungwoo was taking a wild leap of faith, and the least Taeil could do in return was show him the monster that he’d unknowingly taken on. Piece by piece, little by little.

When Taeil emerged in nothing but a towel, Jungwoo was just closing the curtains on the last window. He’d dimmed the lights, too, and put on a quiet soundtrack of mood music, and while Taeil wanted to laugh at his efforts—  _ fuck,  _ Jungwoo’s dedication to romanticism was such a turn-on. He was the one to close the distance between them, pushing Jungwoo back gently against the wall as he kissed him, making Jungwoo giggle against his lips.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now. I have to admit— when you stopped returning my messages, the idea crossed my mind that it might have to do with the sex.”

_ “What?  _ Not at all,” Taeil answered with absolute honesty, smiling at the notion. “It gets better every time we do it, honestly…”

“So it stands to reason that tonight should be the best yet?” Jungwoo asked brightly, pulling Taeil closer with a hand on his ass. “I really missed this… being  _ alone  _ with you.”

“Me too,” Taeil paused, though, swallowing with difficulty. “I need to tell you something before we do this, though.”

“Something like what?”

Taeil’s eyes closed, and he stepped back from the facade of gentle dominance that he’d put up. He’d given some thought about how to say it, but it was hard. He couldn’t think about it without thinking about Sunyoung shedding tears and demanding answers, without thinking about how critically the nurse had stared at him when she asked him about his cuts. He knew that Jungwoo wouldn’t judge, and yet—  _ You deserve someone whole, not covered in scars. Every scar is another weak place where I could break. _

“I just— want to be honest with you.” Feeling weak and woozy, he let Jungwoo tug him close again, hiding himself against Jungwoo’s shoulder and trying to recapture some of the usual safety that he found in that embrace. “I really want to do this. But— the thing is, I have some fresh cuts on my hips, so just…” Saying it aloud made his throat dry up, and his voice cracked slightly as he finished: “Just be gentle.”

Jungwoo gave him a squeeze then, out of nowhere, pressing his face into his hair. “Taeil…” Jungwoo calling him by his name by itself had gone from sounding cheekily disrespectful to heart-achingly  _ intimate. _ “Shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine— I mean, I’m  _ going  _ to be fine, I promise—” He closed his eyes tight for a moment, breathing deep. “I just want you. Take care of me. Please.”

Funny, Jungwoo had always been transparent about how he needed Taeil, but this was the first time that Taeil could remember candidly admitting that  _ he  _ needed Jungwoo’s love, too. It was embarrassing, but when Jungwoo immediately responded with a kiss, that made everything worth it.

Taeil tugged Jungwoo towards the bed without breaking their kiss, and as soon as his back hit the mattress, Jungwoo’s hand went for his towel and tossed it to the side. All at once he was exposed, and he had to remind himself to breathe, to stay present in the moment: Jungwoo’s lips on his neck, Taeil’s fingers in his hair, the mingling sounds of their breath. It was all so familiar and comfortable, but it didn’t escape his notice how Jungwoo positioned himself, holding up his own weight instead of straddling his hips. He kissed his way down Taeil’s chest with such care, seeming to stretch and savor every moment; he made a moment of eye contact, smiling faintly as his tongue traced a heated path from his belly button down, and Taeil had to close his eyes, face burning.

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

“Am not.” It was instinctive. It probably always would be. But Taeil’s voice still quivered, as though he weren’t sure.

“Beautiful.” Jungwoo’s reply was stubbornly insistent anyway. His lips ghosted over the scabs along his left hip, just a brief moment of acknowledgement—  _ Even these parts of you are beautiful,  _ they seemed to say as they moved to his soft inner thighs,  _ even these parts that I’ll probably never convince you to love, I’ll love them for you.  _ Then in the next moment, his tongue flicked across the head of Taeil’s cock and made his hips buck up in search of more. “I missed this. Missed showing you how much I love you,” he whispered, voice edged with breathless arousal, before he took Taeil between his lips and made him fall apart with his slow, loving attention.

(Had Jungwoo really doubted his ability to make Taeil  _ melt  _ in bed? The idea felt crazy— he was sure not to bite back a single moan or sigh this time, determined to show him properly.)

Jungwoo moved slowly and took his time, and when he pulled back to catch his breath at last, Taeil was tense with the effort of not finishing too soon. After all, he wanted to pleasure Jungwoo too, and it had been far too long since he’d last had something inside of him. Jungwoo seemed to have the same idea— pressing a few sweet kisses to his stomach and hipbones before he suggested, “You should flip over for me, baby…”

Taeil was dazed, and it seemed to take a lot of effort to obey; the friction of the sheets on his cuts as he rolled over made him wince and raise up onto his knees. “You’re going to be careful, right?” He suddenly froze. “Did you bring lube?”

“I’m going to be  _ so _ careful. Don’t worry,” Jungwoo replied simply, and Taeil’s second question was left unanswered. His heart was racing in his chest, and he was about to press the issue, but he was cut off by a gasp as Jungwoo kissed up the back of his thigh and over the curve of his ass.

_ “Jungwoo—” _

“It’s okay. Just breathe.” The idol giggled, tongue swiping across the supersensitive skin and making his knees buckle with surprise. “I want to show you exactly how beautiful I think you are.” He waited a moment, giving Taeil a second to stop him if he wanted to— but Taeil bit his tongue, nodding faintly, and did his best not to flinch away as Jungwoo spread him open.

It was an uncomfortable moment of exposure, and then— and then Jungwoo’s tongue probed  _ inside  _ of him, making his mouth fall open with an unabashed groan. It was a sensation like nothing else, and his self-conscious instinct to protest was drowned in the  _ euphoria  _ of it. Jungwoo reached around to grip his throbbing erection, but he hardly needed it. His fingers tightened mindlessly into the sheets, he was half-aware of his lips forming around a desperate curse— 

And then  _ release,  _ back arching with tension as everything peaked and then crashed down around him. His legs buckled, shook, and gave out; spots of light danced exquisitely in his vision; still, Jungwoo didn’t let up until Taeil wriggled away with a whine of overstimulated discomfort. Words weren’t possible, not yet, and Jungwoo seemed to feel the same— rubbing his back slowly as he came back around, exhausted and shaking with tears in his eyes.

“Was that okay?”

Taeil’s throat was sore, as though he’d been crying out— actually, he supposed he  _ had  _ been, he realized sheepishly, suddenly shivering and tugging the blanket over himself. “You didn’t have to do that,” he answered breathlessly, turning to hide in Jungwoo’s chest. 

“I mean, I realize that,” the younger answered in obvious amusement, stroking Taeil’s hair as he held him close. “But it seemed like the best way to show you how much I love every last bit of you, so hopefully you believe me from now on.” He chuckled, murmuring affectionately into his ear, “Besides,  _ I  _ enjoyed myself. I’ll do it again, next time, if that’s not your way of telling me that you hated it.”

“It’s… it’s not.” Taeil’s mind was waking back up from its pleasure-dazed state, but it felt  _ lighter  _ somehow, and he wondered if it was from the therapeutic sex, or his admission of his cuts, or perhaps a combination of both together. His eyes stung and blurred, and he hiccuped as he hid himself in Jungwoo’s chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to worry, o-or think that it’s your fault—” The sudden feeling of Jungwoo shifting in his arms made him whine, and he reached for him as he pulled away, feeling his stomach sink. “No, come back, please…”

“I’m just going to clean myself up, Taeil. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay. Please hurry.” Taeil sniffled back his tears, hugging tight to the blanket as he waited for Jungwoo to come back. As selfish as the request might have sounded, there was a selfless basis behind it—  _ You make me feel more loved than I’ve ever felt before, and I want to love you back. I might not be able to give you everything you deserve, but I want to try.  _ When Jungwoo rejoined him (his kisses tasting suddenly of mouthwash— which was fair), Taeil was already dozing, and as he sleepily fumbled with the button on Jungwoo’s pants, he wasn’t expecting his boyfriend to gently push his hands away.

“You look so cute and sleepy. Wait ‘til tomorrow, love.”

“But— I want to reciprocate!”

“I wish I could list off all the amazing things you’ve done for me that I could never reciprocate. But love isn’t always about a one-to-one reciprocation, you know,” Jungwoo replied fondly. His fingers slid through Taeil’s hair, nails massaging his scalp, and that was it— the killing blow, there was no  _ way  _ Taeil would be able to resist sleep. “There’s always tomorrow. Now— close your eyes, my love.”

With a soft sigh, partial disappointment but mostly relief, Taeil let his eyelids flutter closed without resistance. His brain was melting into a puddle inside his head, and though he wanted to inquire about some of those supposed  _ amazing things…  _ he supposed Jungwoo was right, there were was always tomorrow. Nothing but tomorrows, lined up ahead of them, as far as Taeil could see.


	11. The Comeback: Orbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last full-length chapter is here, only an epilogue to go! I'll try my best to have it up this week, I wanted to post both at once but I'm not 100% happy with it yet :P Once again a big THANK YOU for everyone who read, commented, and shared this fic! It's been a massive undertaking, over double the length of anything else I've written before it, and it's gone through a lot of rewriting and reshaping and revamping. (Fun fact: this idea originally struck me as a BTS fic! How different would this ending be if the ship was Namjoon and Jimin? Uhh probably a LOT.)
> 
> Once again, song inspirations:  
> [Love in Color](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5CqwZbl4vko) \- Taeyeon  
> [Beautiful Goodbye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU0BtevFw3Q) \- f(x) (lyrics snagged for Jieun's song at the end!)

_“This is coming from Jungwoo himself… wow… hard to believe, isn’t it?”_

_“People said the same thing about Kim Jieun in all the old articles, that her manager took advantage of her. But I guess you never know what happened until you hear it from the idol themselves. I’m glad that he’s happy, but I wonder if this means he’s quitting…”_

_It was past midnight, but that hardly mattered. Late nights were nothing new to Taeyeon, and she felt just as at-home in her office at 1 AM as she did in the middle of the afternoon. She sipped her now-cold tea while barely tasting it, her finger never leaving the scroll wheel on her computer mouse._

_“Aren’t the two of them cute together? I nearly cried when I saw Jungwoo talk about him on Vlive. He feels so genuine compared to other celebrities.”_

_“Finally… I’m a fan of Jungwoo’s, and I’ve known I was gay since I was fifteen years old, but I’ve never told anyone, even my best friends. Seeing him be so unapologetically honest gives me a lot of hope. I’m collecting signatures for a petition to keep him active in SM Entertainment— I think the world is ready. Kim Jungwoo fighting!”_

_Yes, the world was changing. It was hard to Taeyeon to determine just how much, but the fact that she was even_ considering _this said a lot. With a sigh, she scrolled back up to the top of the page. The news article displayed Jungwoo’s profile picture from Produce 101, bright-eyed and innocent in his school uniform, next to the infamously circulating photograph of his fingers twined with Taeil’s. Secure, like he’d never let go. Doyoung had been on the verge of losing his mind when he’d called her about it, but the longer Taeyeon sat on the information, the less certain she was that she could hold a grudge._

_Finally, closing out of the window, she switched to her email client and typed in an address that she’d never expected to need again._

_“I am meeting with Jungwoo on October 1st at 10 AM sharp to discuss the terms of his contract. If you are free, you should accompany him. I’m wondering if there’s a solution that might benefit the two of you just as well as the company— think about it.”_

_“It might be long overdue, but I’m sorry,” she typed as an afterthought, but she deleted this line a second before she hit send._

//

Taeil didn’t often dream, but when he did, it always felt so real and so _mundane._ He never questioned anything until the point that he blinked himself awake, bewildered and confused, wondering how he was a boring enough person to dream about working in the SM offices or going grocery shopping or, god forbid, doing his taxes.

This dream was different, though. He knew from the first moment that it was absurd, because Kibum was trying to cram Taeil into the form-fitting leather pants that Jungwoo had worn in the _Press Your Number_ music video, and he seemed surprised that it wasn’t working.

Help me help you, Kibum instructed in exasperation, tugging hard around his waist to join the button with its hole below his belly button. He’d put on weight since leaving the company, he didn’t need to be told that.

But why? Taeil looked around them in a daze, at the generic dressing room, the spread of makeup. Soojung was there, sifting through a pile of brushes until she found the one she wanted. Small and thin, a brush for lip cream. He was weirdly proud of himself for knowing that, just a moment before she selected a rosy pink color and turned to him, poised to paint his parted lips.

Will you— stand up straight? I’m always telling you, Kibum scolded, pulling Taeil’s shoulders back with the loving intensity of a strict mother. Yeah, actually, Kibum _was_ always telling him that, and he wasn’t even one of their talents.

I’m not an idol, Taeil pointed out, as though it weren’t obvious.

Soojung’s lips twitched in amusement before him. You’re a celebrity now, she insisted, like she hadn’t heard him. We need to hurry up. You’re onstage in ten.

What?!

Taeil never got a response. The next thing he knew, he was blinking himself awake in the dreamy, muted afternoon light of his bedroom window. Everything felt hazy, and he was so comfortable that he closed his eyes again, wondering if he might doze a bit longer. To someone like him, who had spent so many years working sun-up to midnight or later, there seemed to be nothing more fantastically indulgent than a long afternoon nap.

The sound of a page turning drew his attention, and he opened his eyes just enough to see Jungwoo stretched out in his desk chair, socked feet propped up on the edge of the mattress with a book in his lap. Taeil had left plenty of books behind in his old bedroom— novels he’d read in high school, mostly, and a few textbooks— and he’d given Jungwoo permission to go through them as he liked. (The night before, he’d found Taeil’s high school yearbook— the humiliation of Jungwoo fawning over his nearly decade-old school photo had almost made him regret it.)

Jungwoo lifted his head, slightly, as though he could feel Taeil’s gaze; his eyes were warm with affection, and he nudged his boyfriend’s leg with his foot. “Hey, sleepyhead. How was your nap?”

Taeil closed his eyes for just a few seconds, reluctantly saying goodbye to sleep. “My headache is gone,” he reported. “I had— a _bizarre_ dream, though. I was an idol. Kibum was trying to put me in your clothes.”

“Well, you know how much I love you in my clothes.” Jungwoo smirked, with a little nod of approval— a reminder that Taeil was wearing that sweater again. Jungwoo had taken back partial custody of it when they’d gotten back together, and that seemed to recharge the magic. It was like being wrapped in his lover’s embrace at all times.

Before he could reply, Jungwoo went on: “I found one of your old notebooks. These lyrics— they’re _amazing._ Did you write them?”

All at once, Taeil felt _startlingly_ awake, eyes zeroed in on Jungwoo’s hands. He held a small leatherbound notebook that Taeil recognized all too well. His father had destroyed all his music and all his lyrics, but this one lucky notebook had been in Taeil’s school bookbag at the time, and until the day he moved out, he had kept it stowed safely between his mattress and his bedframe. _That’s all I have left from those days. That’s the only part of the old me that still exists._

“A… a long time ago.”

Jungwoo smiled slightly, his eyes drifting back down to the page for a moment. “When we first met, you were such an insufferable hard-ass, and when I started getting close to you, I figured I’d finally cracked into your core. That was the real you, I’d convinced myself. A shy, quiet softie. But— more and more, it’s occurring to me that there’s layers under that, too. Some of these lyrics are so _sad.”_ He paused, finger tracing along the edge of the paper before he noted almost timidly, “There’s blood on this page. Taeil… I worry about you.”

Taeil curled up into himself without thinking about it, tugging the blanket protectively around his body. It did nothing, he still felt naked. “I told you, I’m going to stop,” he murmured delicately. As long as he spoke vaguely, he was okay— approaching words like _cut_ and _blood_ and _self-harm_ made him feel clammy with anxiety, but he could tiptoe around them well enough. “I haven’t since you came back.”

“I know. I believe you. It’s just… you’re such an enigma to me, even now.” He closed the notebook slowly, paused to run his hands reverently over the leather cover before he placed it back on the desk. He was silent as he got up and slipped into bed beside Taeil; he lay on his back, which was an open invite for a head on his chest, as far as Taeil was concerned. “I want to know you more, so I can love you more. I really think that I _would.”_

Taeil closed his eyes, letting his focus drift to the sound of Jungwoo’s heartbeat, slow and steady. It had become one of his greatest comforts, just by virtue of being Jungwoo’s lifeforce. Maybe that nonsensical feeling went the same way in reverse. Maybe Jungwoo could find beauty in his scars, if only because they were _his._

“Can you at least tell me what you’re thinking right now? You’re being so quiet.”

“I—” Taeil’s voice was hoarse, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, to no avail. “I’m wishing I could tell you what you want to hear.” He took a quivering breath. “I can revisit the memories, but I can’t talk about them. I’ve _never_ talked about them before. Not with Sunyoung. Not with Nara. Clearly, I’ve never been to therapy, or else I’d probably have this under control by now…” He opened his eyes lazily, his gaze drawn back to the notebook resting on the desk. Were there still empty pages in the back? He couldn’t quite remember. _I started writing to deal with this. I wrote so many songs about the feelings I couldn’t talk about, and then I stopped writing lyrics in university, and that’s when my soul withered up and died._

“Hey,” Taeil suddenly spoke up, arms slipping around Jungwoo’s waist. “You told me once that everyone is the main character in their own story, and back then I thought you were full of shit.”

Jungwoo snickered. “Don’t you always?”

“I— I can’t understand why anyone would want to read my story—” The idea of what he was about to suggest was terrifying. There would be no backing down once it came out of his mouth. _Our relationship needs this, though. Jungwoo needs this from me. And if we’re going to break up— it will be when the universe tears us apart. Not before._ He peered up at Jungwoo’s face as he dared to voice his proposition: “But if I wrote it for you… would you?”

It might feel good, he decided with finality, for someone to finally _know._

Jungwoo smiled and kissed Taeil’s forehead. “Of course I would. Every sentence.”

And he would, too. If there was one thing Taeil knew now about Jungwoo, it was that he was good for his word. Taeil, on the other hand, still had to prove that Jungwoo could trust him just the same way, and this time, there was no room for fear.

//

Returning to the SM building after so many weeks was a strange feeling. Jungwoo had gone in nearly twenty minutes ago, at 9:30 AM, and of course, there had been fans outside the doors awaiting him. He’d detailed the entire experience to Taeil in a text message— they shoved their cameras in his face, all eager for a fresh picture of him to share on the internet, and one of them tearfully pressed a bundle of fan letters into his hands that he was too freaked out to open.

Taeil glanced at his phone, butterflies in his stomach. Okay, 9:51— if he was going, this was it. Truthfully, when they’d gotten there, he _still_ wasn’t sure. But Jungwoo had wanted him, and Jungwoo had _pleaded_ to him. He was going to get Taeil’s job back, he vowed, and Taeil believed that he believed it.

Sighing, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, adjusted his mask one more time, and walked towards the building doors with his head down. For once in his life, he was glad to be short and unassuming. The hysterical fans were still waiting outside, still flabbergasted that Jungwoo had _actually_ come back— Taeil found himself grinning behind his mask as he edged through the doors. Jungwoo was waiting by the elevator near Taeyeon’s office, which was in the staff-restricted section of the building, but luckily Taeil had never gotten the chance to turn in his badge.

Jungwoo had been leaning against the wall, aimlessly fiddling with the edge of his phone case in a way that betrayed nerves— but he straightened up and gave Taeil a brave smile when he saw him, pocketing his phone and reaching for his boyfriend’s hand. “Ready, love?”

“Nearly. Just— here.” Taeil huffed quietly as he pulled Jungwoo forward, straightening the collar of his shirt. “You’re going to stick to what we talked about, aren’t you? Meeting them in the middle?”

“If I have to,” Jungwoo conceded with a soft sigh, letting Taeil fix his cuffs and smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt one last time. “But I’m not going to accept any solution that involves us being apart, I hope you know that. I can make music without SM Entertainment, but I don’t think I can keep making music without you, Moon Taeil.”

“I—” Taeil’s face heated up like a flare, and he sighed. If they were alone and in private, he would have buried himself in Jungwoo’s chest and let his boyfriend squeeze him numb; he was too aware of where they were, though, and he had to settle for a scoff and a kiss so quick that you’d miss it if you blinked. “I support you. Whatever you want to do, I have faith in you, Kim Jungwoo.”

The squeak of the conference room door opening behind him didn’t register with Taeil until Jungwoo’s eyes went round and solemn, at which point he spun on his heels and found himself face-to-face with Taeyeon. Even when she wore heels, Taeil still had several centimeters on her, but her presence was as imposing as ever— and something about the polite little smile she wore told him that she’d seen everything. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We were going over things once more,” she opened, stepping aside to beckon them in. “Have a seat, we’ll get started. I trust that you’ve found your time off… illuminative.”

The conference room table had sixteen chairs around it, but it was sparsely populated this time around— a woman that Taeil scarcely recognized and two men that he’d never seen before, all of whom greeted them respectfully, but none of whom smiled. “This is Im Yoona from Marketing, Park Jeongsu from Human Resources— and Choi Siwon is one of our best lawyers. I’m hoping that we don’t need him, but in the event that things _escalate,_ he will be representing SM Entertainment’s interests in court.”

 _Shit. We probably should have brought a lawyer along._ Taeil did his best not to meet anyone’s eyes for too long, worried that his nerves might show. That, he was happy to leave to Jungwoo, who was always the most natural with people. “Good to see you all,” he spoke up as professionally as expected, polite but uncharacteristically cold, nothing like the genuine smiles that he showed to the public. “We’re ready to begin whenever you are.”

 _Don’t be too bold, Jungwoo._ Taeil couldn’t even look at his own boyfriend, let alone at the line of executives across the table. He looked down at the stained oak tabletop instead, wished he could dissociate at will.

Taeyeon spoke next, voice calm and even as ever: “Let me tell you what I’ve been thinking about first, from the perspective of the company. You’ve _both_ broken the terms of your contract— Jungwoo, more than once. Romantic involvement with a company staff member. An unauthorized Vlive broadcast that completely slandered the company. The recent picture posted to your fan cafe without company permission. You’ve not only broken your contract, but you’ve defamed us, you’ve made us look like tyrants. On these grounds alone, I was fully prepared to sue you for everything you’re worth when you undoubtedly came back crying for a contract nullification.” Taeyeon suddenly drummed her fingernails on a stack of papers in front of her, drawing Taeil’s attention with a little shiver.

“But your little fan cafe stint made a lot of waves, Jungwoo. We were overwhelmed by angry emails. But we were _also_ flooded with messages of support, fans demanding to have you back and congratulating you for your courage. Messages from Korean fans, American fans, European fans— to the point where it’s become hard to tell if letting you go is a smart move or not. I truly don’t know what way the tide of opinion will turn, and neither does anyone else. But you’ve done something— something in your story inspires people in a way that can’t be ignored, and it makes me truly think that we’re on the edge of something historical. It’s something I’d like to see through to the end if it’s possible. And so, assuming that you agree to our terms, I’d like to ignore your contract violations and give you the chance to release one more album. And if you can hit 50,000 sales— that’s all— then I’m happy to continue supporting you.” Her tense, professional smile remained, but a hint of warmth snuck into her voice as she added on, “I’m sorry that it needs to come down to numbers. It feels colder than I intend it to. I need to make the decision that will benefit SM Entertainment, first and foremost— but I hope you know how much I personally want to support this type of change in the industry. This is the best I can offer you, and I hope it’s enough.”

Maybe it _had_ felt cold to Jungwoo, who didn’t know Taeyeon well— but to Taeil, who’d had more time to practice reading her face, the warmth in her eyes was immediately obvious. _She means it._ The realization lightened his heart, and he was hit with the sudden, intense longing for Jungwoo to stay.

“It doesn’t feel cold at all. It feels practical,” Jungwoo assured her. His expression was one of practiced amicability— all the idol training was coming out, Taeil realized, biting back a smile himself. It made him think of Taeyeon during that first meeting, the calculated smile she’d given Jungwoo when she’d asked him what kind of musician he wanted to be. “I’d like to go back to making music and performing for my fans, but President-nim— I can only do that in an honest way with Taeil beside me. All of my best songs have been about him, and all of my best moments have been with him beside me. And if he and I have to be apart, then I’m not interested in trying again. I’d rather terminate my contract and pay whatever crazy amount you need me to pay.”

Clearly, this wasn’t what Taeyeon was expecting to hear, and it wasn’t what any of the other executives wanted to hear, either. Siwon and Yoona made silent but worried eye contact, and it was Jeongsu who spoke up, before Taeyeon could respond: “It doesn’t matter how progressive SM Entertainment is— there’s no way we can get away with hiring a celebrity’s boyfriend to act as his manager. It creates a conflict of interests.”

“He’s right,” Taeyeon confirmed, shrugging slightly in response to the pout that Jungwoo subconsciously let slip onto his face. “Taeil’s loyalty would be split, and I don’t think it’s fair to ask of him. You’re going to stay with Doyoung for now. I know you hate him, but that’s show business.” She glanced to Taeil for just a moment, her face flickered with a shadow of an apologetic smile, and she continued, “But if Taeil isn’t your manager, I don’t have any moral qualms with letting you date. I’m prepared to remove the no-dating clause in your contract, with the condition that you run _everything_ you post on social media by Doyoung first. No more unauthorized announcements of your love.”

Jungwoo’s brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth with the clear intent to argue— and Taeil couldn’t hold himself back from interjecting, a placating hand finding Jungwoo’s knee: “Think before you say anything, please? That’s a _fantastic_ deal, all things considered. I know you want me as your manager, and— and I wish we could do that, but she’s right. It was too hard to keep the balance. If I have to pick between being your boyfriend and being your manager… you _know_ what I would pick, every single time.”

Jungwoo sighed, and the way his breath shook betrayed the tears that he was fighting back, but he was admirably firm in _his_ additional condition: “Only if you let me go on Vlive and clarify the entire story, so people stop thinking that Taeil-hyung is a predator.”

Taeil felt cold, all the way down to the tips of his fingers. The idol was playing with fire, his words polite but his tone flat and no-nonsense, with a conviction that shook him. _This is how much I mean to him._ He could say nothing, only squeezing Jungwoo’s knee for dear life while he waited for Taeyeon’s answer.

“Write out a statement, and we’ll talk.”

Jungwoo was squeezing his own thighs in order to keep his hands from shaking, Taeil noticed; he was more nervous than he was letting on, and that made his display of courage all the more admirable. “Say yes,” he urged the idol quietly, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’ll deal with your fans, and whatever they think of me. It will be okay.”

The silence hung thick in the room for a few moments; Taeil could almost feel the rushing of Jungwoo’s thoughts as he considered the offer. At long last, he answered, “I can accept that. Thank you for your consideration, President-nim. I believe that being open with my fans will be better for them _and_ for me.”

“I sincerely hope so.” Taeyeon smiled, and in an uncharacteristically forward movement, she reached across the table and offered Jungwoo her hand to shake. “Welcome back, Jungwoo. SM Entertainment certainly would have missed you.” She looked to Siwon next, business as usual. “Can you draft up an amendment to Jungwoo’s contracts with these terms, by Wednesday? In the meantime— Jungwoo, you need to speak with Doyoung today. He’s been collecting the interview requests that have been flooding us all week. Most of them are with foreign outlets, but there are at least a couple from Korean magazines.”

“Yes, President-nim. I’ll call him.” One more squeeze of Taeil’s hand— he hadn’t even realized Jungwoo had grabbed it— before the singer stood from his seat. “Does that mean I need to move back into my apartment?”

“I’m afraid so. I hope you’ve enjoyed your honeymoon together.” Taeyeon replied, words tinged with gentle derision. She’d dismissed Siwon and the other executives, but as the room cleared and Taeil got to his feet, she added on, “Taeil, can we speak in private for a moment?”

Jungwoo seemed floored by this request— Taeil knew to expect it, but even _he_ was nervous, to be honest. He gave his boyfriend a small nod, a signal to wait outside, and in the next moment, he and Taeyeon were alone.

“I don’t remember Jungwoo being such a spitfire,” she commented, her tone light. “I don’t think I would have accepted him as a trainee with an attitude like the one he has now. Divas in this industry burn bright and die young, you know.” Taeil wasn’t sure what to respond to this— _is she looking for an apology?—_ but before he could ask, she hit him with an unexpected question: “How are the two of you doing? Going strong?”

Taeil almost wasn’t sure how to answer. What did she want to hear, anyway? He fidgeted with his shirt sleeves, trying to keep his tone neutral: “We’re doing fine. Things are… difficult, I suppose, but I guess that’s just the way relationships are.”

If the joke registered with her, it didn’t quite show on her face. “And how are _you?”_ she pressed. “Working somewhere else, I’m assuming?”

“Not— not exactly, at the moment. It’s been weird.” Taeil shrugged. “But I’m fine. Y’know… working through things. Spending time with my family.”

“Good. That’s actually what I was hoping to hear.” Taeyeon smiled at last, a genuine smile that lit up her eyes. “I felt terrible about letting you go the way we did. That’s why I asked you to come along. What do you think about working here as a songwriter?”

“A— what?” The word was like a drop of water in the circuit board of his brain, and it rendered him unable to speak for a long, surreal moment. _A songwriter. I couldn’t be a songwriter. Everything I write is shit._

“Listen, we’ve seen four fansites close this week, but there’s _also_ been an influx of digital sales. Diehard fans are buying his songs on every platform in solidarity, and the one that’s had the biggest spike is _Highway to Heaven._ Because it’s _good._ You can’t ignore that.” She leaned a little closer, her voice dropping into a near-whisper in the quiet room. “You _did_ tell Jungwoo that you wrote that song, didn’t you?”

“K… Kind of.” He closed his eyes, willing the world to stop spinning so he could think clearly. Truthfully, he often downplayed his role in the song in his own mind, but he _had_ worked hard on it. “I didn’t tell him I was the main songwriter. He’s so dramatic, I didn’t want to set him off. _Highway to Heaven_ isn’t anything spectacular.”

 _“Christ._ You’re too modest. You’re a genius, and you won’t even acknowledge it.” She chuckled dryly. “Well, think about it and get back to me with an answer. If things go the way I’m hoping they will with Jungwoo, the two of you are going to be a very hot-button discussion, and we may be able to work out something very lucrative for the two of you together. A YouTube series, maybe? Some behind-the-scenes footage of you working on Jungwoo’s music?”

“Jungwoo’s music?” Taeil repeated incredulously. The idea of working with Jungwoo again had seemed so far out of reach until that moment, but— _We might get to stay together after all._

“I _did_ tell you that I might have a mutually beneficial arrangement in mind, didn’t I? I wasn’t talking out my ass.” Taeyeon shook her head, as if in disbelief that Taeil had doubted her; casually, as though she _wasn’t_ holding Taeil’s professional life in the palm of her hand, she shuffled the papers in front of her back into their manilla folder, getting ready to leave. “Nor was I just making pleasantries when I told Jungwoo that I wanted to support him. I’ve thought for a long time that our society was due for a change, but it’s a scary leap to make, especially when you have a business to keep afloat.” She sighed, standing up and smoothing out the front of her blazer. “I’m on your side, Taeil. Can you make sure that Jungwoo knows that? Let him know that my _flatmate,_ Jessica, is a big fan.”

Then the realization dawned on him, and Taeil quickly lowered his head in a compliant bow, murmuring shy agreement and a clumsy thank-you. She said her polite farewells as she stood, leaving the conference room first, but Taeil felt too weak to force movement for a few more moments, his heart still pounding.

This didn’t happen. Things didn’t _work out_ for Taeil. He was almost afraid of the success that had fallen in front of him. There had to be a trick, a trap door. He had to anticipate the fall-out. He had to brace himself for the awkwardness of working together when Jungwoo inevitably left him, or the terror of having a complete mental breakdown under the pressure of everything. It _would_ happen, and it would be _awful._

“Hyung?” Jungwoo’s voice from the doorway startled him, and Taeil blinked, turning all at once to see him. It was nearly 11, suddenly. Where had the time gone?

He exhaled shakily, summoning a smile. “Hey. Sorry. I was just—” 

“I know. I didn’t close the door all the way, and I listened from the hallway.” Jungwoo grinned, his eyes glittering with teasing mirth. “I was giving you time to process, but then I started to get worried that you’d passed out from the shock of it all.” Taeil got to his feet at last as Jungwoo spoke, and he closed his eyes in preparation for the bone-crushing hug that he knew was coming. This time he didn’t complain, either— there was something grounding and cathartic about it. _Like cutting, except it doesn’t hurt._ “We’re going to work together after all! I’m _so_ proud of you, hyung!” Jungwoo cooed, pressing a long kiss to his forehead.

Taeil didn’t know if he was proud or excited or terrified or _what—_ but he curled his fingers into Jungwoo’s sweater, anyway, and squeezed back tight. _“Maybe._ I haven’t said yes yet,” Taeil reminded him. “And you haven’t sold 50,000 copies of your new album yet.”

“I’ll work hard. 50,000 copies is nothing,” Jungwoo dismissed, shaking his head. “Besides, I _know_ you’re going to say yes, and I _know_ you’re going to do an incredible job. As soon as you have an office set up here, I hope you know that I’m coming in to bother you every day.”

 _I know you’re going to do an incredible job._ Something about those words hit Taeil’s brain and went straight into his bloodstream, with a high better than cigarettes or weed or even morphine. He wasn’t sure, in twenty-seven years, that he’d ever heard such direct praise, but he was pretty sure he could get addicted to the feeling if given the chance.

//

_“On September 26th, Jungwoo posted a photograph of his hand linked with another, which many fans speculated belonged to his former-manager-turned-boyfriend, Moon Taeil. This morning, October 4th, a rep from SM Entertainment has finally offered the following statement: ‘After checking with Jungwoo, we have confirmed that there is a romantic relationship between the two. This resulted in an immediate resignation from Moon Taeil, in acknowledgement of the fact that relationships between staff and celebrities are strictly forbidden within our company. However, with their professional connection cut, there is no reason why they cannot continue to date, and despite whatever controversy this might cause with the general public, SM Entertainment has taken the stance that a celebrity’s personal life is his own.’_

_Kim Jungwoo’s two largest fansites closed down within days of the controversial photograph being posted, and Nature Republic has ended their endorsement deal with him, stating that his current image no longer represents that of their brand. At the same time, unexpectedly, four of the artist’s previously released songs have returned to Melon Music’s Weekly Top 50 streaming chart. SM Entertainment also reports a spike in international sales of Jungwoo’s discography, and adds, ‘Kim Jungwoo has been overwhelmed with support from new and old fans alike. SM Entertainment and Jungwoo are sincerely thankful to those who have the power to help us change the standards of the industry. Thank you.’”_

Reading the words on the front page of every major K-pop news outlet gave Taeil butterflies. For some reason, he hadn’t expected a statement at all, let alone one so comprehensive and complete. SM Entertainment had, for once, outdone themselves. Of course, the comment sections were a mixed bag, with everything from staunch support to complete denouncement, and for his own sanity, he couldn’t bring himself to look for more than a moment.

Jungwoo’s fan cafe numbers dropped and then spiked, as if in retaliation, two forces clashing back and forth. Taeil’s phone number was uncovered, and he was so bombarded with texts and voicemails that he was forced to change phone services altogether. Jungwoo video called Taeil one night, describing how sasaengs screaming outside his dorm had prompted his neighbors to call the police. _“Doyoung’s losing his hair over it,”_ he’d described, with a layer of amusement clearly meant to deflect worry. _“I told him he should go see his girlfriend and decompress, but he’s worried that if the crowd sees him leave, they’ll bust down my door and skin me alive.”_

“Christ, Jungwoo. You’re being careful, aren’t you…?”

 _“We both carry around cans of mace with us now, if that’s what you mean. I feel like it would look bad if I had to mace one of my own fans, though, so I’m trying to avoid it.”_ He’d chuckled listlessly. _“I don’t know, hyung… another one of my fansites shut down yesterday. Do you really think I can sell 50,000 albums?”_

It was a hard question to think about, and a depressing one. But Taeil answered according to his new philosophy, _optimism—_ “Of course you can, love. All the same, I think you should avoid macing your fans, just to be safe.”

Despite Taeil’s fears, he was set up with his own office the week after. Being back to the SM building for work felt strange, especially when he had to arrive in disguise and slip through the crowd at the front door, but his office felt so normal and quiet and mundane that it was a comfort. The thought that he was meant to sit in here and _create music_ was either a dream come true or an anxiety attack waiting to happen, he couldn’t quite decide.

“Hey, stranger!” Taeil perked up at the sound of one of his favorite voices from the doorway— not Jungwoo’s, but a fairly close second. Sunyoung closed the door behind her, grinning. “I love that you’re right across the hall now. I’ll be able to steal you for company on my smoke breaks.”

Taeil grimaced a little, adding with as much good humor as he could muster, “Thanks, but I’ve made up my mind to quit smoking. Jungwoo doesn’t like the smell.” The taste, more accurately— Jungwoo only had to reject a kiss and ask him to brush his teeth one time for Taeil to make up his mind on quitting. Kissing Jungwoo was far more important than any nicotine buzz.

“Good for you. In that case, I’m never going to give you another cigarette ever again. I don’t want to be the reason that the two of you break up,” Sunyoung amended, plopping herself without invitation on the edge of his desk and peering at his computer screen. The Vlive website stared back at her, unabashedly revealing all of Taeil’s secrets, and he felt his ears burn at her knowing chuckle. “Ah, that’s right. Today’s the day he’s doing his Q&A, right?”

Taeil only nodded his confirmation, watching the clock with his heart fluttering. Jungwoo was set to go live at exactly noon— only two minutes to go. The company had given him a strict outline of things that he couldn’t say, which Jungwoo had complained about the night before on the phone, but it was better to have a list of _prohibited_ topics than a script to follow. Jungwoo would make the best of it, Taeil knew that he would.

Sunyoung went quiet, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Taeil smiled slightly. He’d gotten what he perceived to be mixed reactions around the SM building, but at least he could count on one person staying in his corner.

At last, the live started, a couple minutes behind schedule; Jungwoo was back in his makeup, black hair pushed back out of his face, eyes subtly widened and lips full and sparkly with gloss. _“Hi everyone! Ah… there are already so many people waiting here! Sorry I’m late!”_

At once, the comments moved in a flurry, too quickly for Taeil to even try to read them all. Walls of emojis, call-outs of countries— _“Hello from Canada! Say hi to your fans from Brazil! Japanese Shooting Stars support Jungwoo, now and forever!”_ — and though the occasional slur or insult made Taeil’s stomach lurch, it seemed like they were overwhelmed and knocked off-screen just as fast.

 _“Like I said on my Instagram— I wanted to hold a live for the sake of transparency. My fans are my family, and I want to tell you everything, including the things that might be difficult. If you have questions, I’ll try my best to answer them, but I won’t be able to answer everything.”_ He paused to take in some of the comments, which were still racing at the speed of light, questions swept away just as soon as they popped up. _“Taeil-hyung is a really shy, secretive person,”_ he confirmed after a moment, breaking into a smile as soon as the name passed his lips. _“This is all really hard for him. Being outed as we were… no, I don’t really have any malice or regrets, just that one thing. I wish it wasn’t so hard on him. I wish I could do a better job taking care of him.”_ And then, he— Jungwoo, the master of shamelessness— _blushed_ as he lowered his eyes demurely. _“He takes care of me the most. He’s so strong when I need him to be. And— that’s most of the time, believe me.”_

“Aww! Taeil, he’s so _cute!_ He’s totally in love with you!” Sunyoung cooed softly, nudging his shoulder.

Taeil didn’t respond, but if he had, the only real answer would have been _I know._

Jungwoo talked for nearly an hour, and for most of that time, Taeil and Sunyoung were quiet, taking it all in. Jungwoo said a lot of things that Taeil _didn’t_ know, in fact— how he’d once told his mother that he wanted to marry a handsome prince instead of a princess, how he’d first come out to his grief counselor when he was barely in middle school. The first moment he’d realized he had some budding feelings for Taeil, weeks before their first kiss: _“At the time, I had so many personal struggles, and all I could do was throw myself into work and try to ignore them. But I always had hyung to fall back on. Truly… I think I would have burned out after_ Highway to Heaven _if I didn’t have him. Being without him suddenly, during my last album promotions, it was torture. I knew I had to fight to stay with him.”_

Perhaps the most amazing part, though, was watching the comments as Jungwoo shared his story. _“I was 13 when I realized I was gay, and I’ve still only told my best friend_ (｡•́︿•̀｡)” _“You should bring Taeil-oppa on Vlive with you! I can’t get enough of your chemistry!” “Korea is ready for more LGBT celebrities! Thank you so much, for being brave for all of us.”_

For the first time, it dawned on Taeil, _really_ dawned on him: things were changing, and Jungwoo was right on the cusp of it. He was the face of a movement whether he wanted to be or not, a soldier for a group of people who had felt ignored by the media for so long. It was scary for Taeil; he wasn’t in the public eye, but he still had to hold Jungwoo up, and he knew it would be draining. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if he’d grown up with an idol like Jungwoo, someone to tell him that whoever he was was ultimately _okay._

When the live ended and Sunyoung was forced to return to work, Taeil sat in his office and cried for the longest time. He wasn’t as strong as Jungwoo thought he was, he knew that. But if Jungwoo needed him, then Taeil would just have to grow a backbone.

 _“You’re incredible,”_ he typed on his phone, as quick as his trembling fingers could manage. _“I love you ♥”_

Jungwoo’s reply was nearly instant. _“I love you even more_ 👨‍❤️‍👨 _Are you in your office right now? I’m coming to smooch you!”_

No arguments this time, Taeil decided. Jungwoo would _certainly_ never let him win.

//

Moving once again— it never got easier. At the very least, Taeil felt confident that he would be able to stay put in this apartment for awhile. It was a spacious one-bedroom, just a quick bus ride from the SM building. At first, he’d been skeptical about whether or not it fit his budget, but… well, when he’d stepped into the living room that first time and saw the lovely view through that big picture window, it reminded him too much of Jungwoo’s apartment with its beautiful sunlit kitchen. Thinking back to that first morning as a couple, struggling not to distract each other with kisses while they made breakfast together, made him smile without meaning to. (Could Doyoung feel the residual love, lingering in every room of that apartment? A very petty part of Taeil sort of hoped so.)

It was Nara who helped him with the majority of his belongings, and shortly after she left that evening, Jungwoo surprised him by showing up at his door unannounced with a bouquet of roses and a bottle of champagne. His smile caught Taeil speechless, and he shrugged nonchalantly as he explained, “I have the night off, so I harassed Doyoung into bringing me here. He’ll be here to pick me up at 9 PM sharp, so I can’t drink too much, but we _can’t_ have a momentous occasion without alcohol, right?” He leaned down to steal a kiss before Taeil could reply, and he giggled like a schoolgirl at the resulting blush. “You uncork the champagne, I’ll start dinner.”

 _“Dinner?_ That’s new. Since when do you cook?”

The flush of color creeping up Jungwoo’s neck did not go unnoticed, though he clearly tried to play it off with a smile. “I’ve been learning! I can cook meat, at the very least. _Hanwoo_ lettuce wraps sound good?”

Sounded excellent, actually. For the first time _ever,_ Taeil passed over control of the kitchen to Jungwoo, and let himself be the one to put his tired feet up and be doted on for a change. The food was excellent, and the conversation more relaxed than it had been in quite some time. Jungwoo had started selecting songs for his new album— he admitted that he’d gone on a lyric-writing spree since they’d gotten back together, so he had plenty to choose from— while Taeil shyly unveiled the details of his first assignment, producing and mixing tracks for the new girl group that SM planned on debuting in the winter. He felt overwhelmed, like he wasn’t good enough, but then Jungwoo pointed out dryly that Taeil _never_ felt like he was good enough, so this wasn’t indicative of anything.

Oddly, that made Taeil feel a little better.

After they ate, Jungwoo started on the dishes, rolling his sleeves up to wash without hesitation and leaving the drying to Taeil. The conversation had faded to a lull, but the quiet felt intimate rather than awkward, and while Taeil dried the last of the plates, Jungwoo hugged him from behind and nuzzled into his hair, warming him all the way to his core. He could have spent every night like that, and he didn’t think he’d ever tire of it.

Of course, the quiet gave him time to think— because he’d been by himself the last few nights, just him and his journal, and he’d turned his mental energy to the task that he’d promised Jungwoo. Each night, he pushed past the nauseating pain in his chest and wrote until his hand cramped, and each morning, he read back his words to himself and felt light and euphoric. He was proud of himself, and he wanted to show Jungwoo the strides that he’d made— but he knew that actually handing the book over would still be a leap. _Maybe not tonight. Maybe I should just leave tonight as it is._

“What the—” Jungwoo spoke up as his phone began to vibrate on the countertop, and he cursed when he glanced at the screen. “Fuck. Doyoung is calling— it’s 9:04. I forgot.” He dismissed the call, pouting as he put his arms out in a plea for a hug. “I really wish I could stay, but I have to go. I’ll text you tomorrow? Maybe I’ll try to sneak up to your office for lunch, if I’m not too busy?”

 _If I don’t do it now, I’ll find ways to keep putting it off._ Taeil was trembling with apprehension as he gave Jungwoo a parting hug, and finally he blurted out, “Can you wait like— ten seconds? I have something I want to give you before you go.”

“Doyoung can wait,” Jungwoo confirmed cheekily, giving Taeil a kiss on the forehead as they broke apart. While Jungwoo put on his shoes and coat, Taeil hurried to his bedroom, easily locating the little leatherbound book tucked into the bottom of his packed suitcase. There _had_ been blank pages in the back, and Taeil had filled each one of them, even having to squeeze words into the margins to get everything out. He’d hand it over, blood stains and all, and finally, Jungwoo would know Taeil to his core.

“Here it is,” he murmured softly as he placed the notebook in Jungwoo’s hands, folding his lover’s fingers protectively around it. “For your eyes only. Except for the lyrics. The ones on the last page, I— I wrote them about you, so if you like them, you can use them in a song.”

Jungwoo’s eyes had gone wide, and he looked down at the worn little journal as though Taeil had filled his hands with diamonds instead. “Oh—” His eyes raised to Taeil’s face, shocked, before his expression broke into a smile so pure and sunny that it made Taeil’s heart twist in his chest with some kind of wild, glorious feeling that he didn’t have words for. “Thank you, hyung. This is the best gift you’ve ever given me. I’ll read every word.”

Without the slightest indication of a rush, Jungwoo drew Taeil into a slow, sweet kiss; neither of them wanted it to end, and so neither of them pulled away, until Jungwoo’s phone interrupted them with another bout of angry buzzing that made them both jump. “Okay! Go, hurry, or he won’t be your taxi next time!” Taeil insisted with a laugh, giving his boyfriend a good-natured shove towards the door.

“Okay! Bye! I love you!” Jungwoo called out over his shoulder as he hurried down the hallway. Normally this sort of thing would have embarrassed the hell out of Taeil, but this time— well, he was too elated to really give a shit about any of that.

“I love you, too! Get home safe!”

Taeil felt so light as he closed the door, he wondered if he might float through the ceiling. Parting for the night was bittersweet, but that only meant it would be all the sweeter when they were reunited again the next day, he told himself. And with that in mind, Taeil settled into his brand-new bed alone and slept like a log.

//

_It’s hard to know where to begin with this. I’ve never thought about how I would put it into words before, because I never planned on doing so. I suppose I should start with the disclaimer that I don’t want or expect you to pity me. I don’t want my trauma or my scars to paint me any differently in your eyes. I’m still me, and I’m okay (mostly)._

_Everything I’ve told you about my family so far is true. My father was a professor of economics at Yonsei University. My mother has worked in the same elementary school for over twenty years. Our family was well-respected in the community, but only because nobody could see what went on behind closed doors. The truth is, my dad was an alcoholic, a violent one, and he rarely missed a day of drinking. When Nara and I were very small, our mother would try to protect us by tucking us into bed early, but I would still hear them fighting and I would be too scared to leave my room. My mother would have bruises when I woke up that she didn’t have the day before, and I didn’t understand why, but I knew that my father was someone to fear._

_When I started elementary school, my father stopped fighting with my mother so much, and started picking on me in her place. Nothing I did was good enough. Every test score should have been higher. Any time I wasn’t studying was considered a waste. I was abysmal at math, which enraged him the most. (Fun fact, I still am. Please tell me you’ll take care of our finances for us after the wedding— I’m only half kidding.)_

_At the beginning of middle school was when I fell in love with K-pop, and my father hated that the most. He hated when I would sing in the house, so I started practicing outside instead. And if he ever caught me working on lyrics or practicing piano when I was supposed to be studying, there would be hell to pay. When I was thirteen, I bought my first album, TVXQ’s Mirotic— and suddenly, on top of being stupid and worthless, I became a “queer” in his eyes. He was so blind with rage that he twisted my arm and dislocated my shoulder while he dragged me to the garbage and forced me to throw it away. My mom was too scared to intervene, but she came up to my room after to reset my shoulder and told me to behave myself and stay on my father’s good side._

_I don’t know that I could have done anything to stay on his good side after that. Everything I did was just further proof to him of my homosexuality. Having too many female friends. Not having the right kind of male friends. Not caring about sports. Watching musicals. I was so paranoid about his judgment that I ignored the crushes on boys that I had all through my teenage years. I don’t know why, but even though I hated my father, I craved his approval, and clearly being gay was the worst thing I could ever do._

_This is around the time I started to cut myself. I don’t really know where I first got the idea, but I knew it was something that people did when they were hurting, and I was hurting a lot. For me, cutting was the only possible release from all the pain I was in. Weirdly, watching my cuts scab and heal and turn into scars made me feel like the pain inside of me was healing. It wasn’t, of course, but the mind can be dangerous that way._

_Then it came to high school, when I started performing. I loved theater, because it was finally something I was good at. It probably seems out-of-character now, but I used to have so much fun onstage, getting the chance to pretend I was someone else. I wanted to go to acting school, but I knew my father would never let me._

_I did go to a K-pop audition when I was sixteen. Just one, at JYP. I wasn’t serious about it, I mainly went to support my friends, who all wanted to be idols so badly. I knew that my father would never let me become a trainee, but against all odds, I actually got a callback, and then an invitation to come train with them. I was ecstatic and terrified, all at once. Being told by all these veteran music executives, by Park Jinyoung himself, that I was a great performer… I can’t even tell you how validating it felt. I’ve never felt that way again._

_(Actually, I take that back. The feeling when you came to Sunyoung’s house and yelled at me? It was pretty damn close, once I got over my shock.)_

_My mom actually came with me to meet with JYP, though, and she looked over the trainee contract. She promised to try and convince my father, which shocked me. I knew it would be a fight. I didn’t want to go home. But I couldn’t think about asking her to drop it, either. I was already preparing myself for trainee life. No matter how brutal it was, I figured it would be better than studying like a robot and living in fear of my father’s next temper tantrum._

_In the end, though, none of that mattered. My mother had texted my father about my audition, which had apparently given him enough time to get home and drink himself into a rage. When we arrived back at the house, my keyboard was smashed clean in half on my bedroom floor. All my sheet music and lyric books were destroyed. My CDs were thrown away. Poor Nara was locked in her bedroom, having a panic attack._

_My memory here is a little hazy, but I will never forget the pain of my head hitting the floor when he tackled me. Then he grabbed me by the hair and just kept slamming my head on the floor. After the fact, we never spoke about it, he never apologized, and I never learned his intentions, but I’m pretty sure he was so blind with rage that he would have killed me if my mom hadn’t been there. I remember blood. And I remember my father calling me a faggot. I absolutely can’t stand that word, even now. It gives me the worst headaches._

_To make a long story short, my mom brought me to the hospital and told the doctors that I’d fallen down the stairs. I don’t think they believed her, since my face was so badly bruised and my skull was slightly fractured, but when I woke up, I backed up the story. What else could I do? If I told the truth, both of my parents would probably go to jail, and since all our grandparents had already passed away, I could only imagine Nara and I being sent into foster care. I’d decided that the easiest thing to do was give up. Fighting hurt too much. I was tired of teenage angst. I figured I’d just do what my father said, and I’d somehow learn to find some fulfillment in the life that he wanted for me._

_My father died of liver cancer when I was twenty-one years old. By that time, I was three years into my business degree, taking music classes in secret and dating Sunyoung. Actually, he met her once, about six months before he passed away. He’d been on his best behavior, unsurprisingly, so I don’t think she really understood why his death made me feel nothing at all. I was neither happy nor sad. I knew that my mother would suffer, but after the funeral, I couldn’t bring myself to visit her. Sunyoung probably thought I was a terrible son, but really, I was trying to resist thinking about all the pain I’d endured. Naively, I thought I could leave that trauma in the past._

_And it almost worked, sort of, until I fell in love with you. Suddenly, I needed to become okay with my worst fear, becoming the person that my father had tried to kill. I had to learn to be softer and more open, which was something I’d never been able to do for Sunyoung. And on top of that, we had to keep it all a secret, which was the hardest thing of all. I’m so glad that I can finally tell everyone how much I love you, Jungwoo. Not having to hide it makes the concept of pride seem a little closer. I’m proud of you, and of us._

_I know I still have a lot of work to do, in order to become the best version of myself. I know that we both have a lot to conquer. I’ll understand if it’s too much for you to handle. It’s too much for_ _me_ _to handle, if I’m honest. But if this is a journey you’re dead-set on taking together, I promise you that I won’t run away from my fears any longer. With you beside me, I’ll face everything head-on._

_There are so many stars floating around you, artificial satellites,  
_ _But I swear by the moon, it’s only you for me, only you.  
_ _If you ask me not to follow you, I can’t help it, you’re magnetic.  
_ _My heart won’t listen to me, it’s too busy watching you._

_There’s a universe, a universe in your eyes,  
_ _Our gazes meet and I’m sucked into your galaxy.  
_ _Please look back at me often, notice me revolving around you—  
_ _Make sure this orbit is right._

//

The next day, as promised, Jungwoo popped into Taeil’s office early in the afternoon. He didn’t have time to eat, he explained apologetically, he was on his way to an interview— “But I wanted to see you for a minute before I have to go,” he said simply, closing the door behind him with a soft smile. “And to thank you for the lyrics. They’re really beautiful. Nobody’s ever told me such things before!”

“You have fans _worldwide_ who think of you as their entire world,” Taeil reminded him evenly, peering up from his keyboard tentatively and trying to keep it cool. He’d been on edge all morning, wondering if Jungwoo had really read his letter, wondering what had gone through his mind as those final words sunk in. Wondering, frankly, if he was too much burden for Jungwoo to take on with all his demons exposed.

“Yeah, maybe. But I think you’re the only one who has what it takes to be my moon,” Jungwoo responded as he leaned over Taeil’s desk, no shame in his voice even as Taeil shivered with the cringe of it.

“Jungwoo, you can’t be s—”

Jungwoo cut him off with a kiss, of course, which Taeil really should have expected, but it still made his heart jump into his throat. That was a confident answer if Taeil had ever gotten one— and when Jungwoo was _that_ confident, he realized, it was better to just trust him.

“I love you,” Jungwoo murmured as he pulled away, eyes alight. “I’m going to make sure I tell you every day from now on. Remind me if I forget.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Taeil had a feeling that Jungwoo wouldn’t forget many days, though. _And he didn’t._

//

Usually, the approach of winter brought Taeil’s mood down with it, but this year, there was a different sort of comfort in the air. He was busy more often than not— stressed, sure, but at least doing something he loved— and he slept better at night than ever before. He saw Sunyoung daily, made it a point to at least _call_ his mother and Nara once a week, and with Jungwoo… well, things were tricky, but they both did what they could. Lunch dates in the studio, video chats from the comfort of their respective beds, or if nothing else, Taeil could listen to Jungwoo’s Vlive broadcasts as background noise as he fell asleep. (It had become, he would admit, a _slight_ addiction.)

It had been an uphill battle for Jungwoo; he’d lost all of his endorsement deals when he came out, and with his image so controversial, the stations were no longer pounding down the door to get him on their variety TV shows. On the other hand, he’d had a flurry of interviews with both domestic and foreign magazines, and he kept himself in the eyes of the fans through social media. If he couldn’t be on SBS or KBS, he’d decided, he’d keep himself relevant and his fans fed through his own broadcasts.

That had its own advantages, of course. Taeil certainly wasn’t sorry for the opportunity to take Jungwoo home for Chuseok. His mother was always asking when she’d see her new son-in-law again, which made Taeil roll his eyes, but secretly, he couldn’t have asked for anything more than a boyfriend that his family loved.

In December, at long last, Jungwoo was ready to turn his full attention to that promised second album. Taeil wouldn’t be the primary producer, Taeyeon dictated (“The two of you will never get anything done” was the consensus, and Taeil privately sort of agreed), but Jungwoo had pleaded his way into _one_ joint project. _Their_ song, he insisted— it had to be on the album, and he couldn’t make it perfect with just anyone.

It was late in the evening, later than Taeil usually liked to stay in his office, but he was ready for a sleepless night— a paper coffee cup in each hand as he precariously punched in the entrance code to Jungwoo’s studio, struggling not to spill. An affirmative _beep_ sounded, the lock clicked open, and a second later, Jungwoo opened the door for him with a grin on his face.

“The demo is done, hyung. I just put the last touches on it.”

The studio felt so homey and comfortable to Taeil, even though they were rarely alone in it anymore. Taeyeon had given Jungwoo strict orders not to be in the SM building by himself (there had been anti-fans gathering outside on the sidewalk on a few occasions), so Doyoung was usually there too— in this case, curled up asleep on the couch, with Jungwoo’s jacket draped over him as a makeshift blanket.

“He’s kind of cute, when he’s not awake to bitch at me,” Jungwoo murmured with a begrudging note of affection in his voice, sitting back at his desk chair and patting his thigh— offering up the only other place to sit, with the couch taken.

“Don’t fall for him,” Taeil retorted in a near-whisper, setting the cups carefully on the messy desk and getting himself _surprisingly_ comfortable in Jungwoo’s lap. “Sunyoung was in my office yesterday, lamenting about how she barely gets to see him. I think she’s pretty serious about him.”

“She can _have_ him. He makes me want to pull my hair out.” Jungwoo replied flippantly, slipping his headphones carefully over Taeil’s ears. “But no. _More_ important— this song is absolutely brilliant. I’ve been listening to it all afternoon. Doyoung called me vain.”

Taeil snorted in amusement. Jungwoo certainly didn’t lack confidence anymore, at the very least.

In a click of the mouse, the track came to life in Taeil’s ears, the familiar laid-back, groovy intro that he’d spent so much time perfecting. They’d been passing the project back and forth: lyrics from Taeil, melody from Jungwoo, basic instrumental from Taeil, arrangement tweaks from Jungwoo, on and on. In the end, _Orbit_ was a song that had both of their fingerprints all over it, and Taeil thought it was beautiful— especially now, with Jungwoo’s voice finally overlaid into the track.

 _“You’re my, you’re my space,_ _  
_ _Twinkling, your twinkling eyes…”_

It was the first time in awhile that Taeil found himself _proud_ to listen back to his own lyrics. Maybe it was because they weren’t based on another song, or a feeling that he’d imagined but never felt. And hearing the words of praise in Jungwoo’s soft, emotional voice… it was enough to make Taeil believe that Jungwoo felt the very same way.

He closed his eyes, leaning back against Jungwoo’s strong chest, feeling those protective arms circle around his waist, and suddenly he was no longer exhausted and dying to go home. He could have stayed there forever.

“What do you think?” Jungwoo asked when the song came to an end, a tinge of anxiety allowed to creep into his voice.

“It’s _beautiful,_ Woo. I love everything about it!” Taeil smiled, swiveling his waist to give his boyfriend a kiss. “Can you send me the file, by any chance? I should probably keep together a portfolio of my work, and I think this will be the best thing in it.” That, and also Taeil needed the song on his phone _immediately—_ so he could listen to it on repeat from the comfort of his apartment.

“Of course! This is just the demo though, you know. There are a couple things I want to add.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Jungwoo’s hand rubbed absent circles at the base of Taeil’s back, an airy half-laugh escaping his lips and a teasing sort of light dancing in his eyes. “Like your voice, love. We wrote it together, I think it’s only right that we sing it together, too.”

Taeil missed a moment, too bewildered to react right away, but managed a dry chuckle a second later. “No way. Nobody’s buying your CD to hear a feature from your non-celebrity boyfriend.”

“Why not?” Jungwoo pouted, giving Taeil a little squeeze. “Hyung, listen. Realistically, I _know_ this could be my last album, if I don’t pull the numbers that the company wants. I mean, I think I will, but— there _is_ a chance that this will be my last hurrah as an idol, and if it is, I want to go out with a bang. I want every song on this album to be completely _me,_ no filler tracks, nothing I don’t completely believe in.”

“But even so—”

“Your existence is a facet of that complete picture of _me,”_ Jungwoo went on calmly, eyes crinkling with his smile. “I want my fans to hear my favorite voice of all time. I want this song to portray everything that I love about you. Besides— we sound amazing together.”

Taeil was smiling, too; he didn’t realize this fact until his cheeks started to ache from it. Jungwoo always knew just what to say to get his way. Or maybe Taeil was just a fool for him. “I’ll think about it,” he replied stubbornly, though certainly they both knew that the answer was _yes._

“Brat.”

 _“Hey._ I said I’d think about it!” Taeil defended indignantly, leaning in to let his forehead rest against Jungwoo’s. “By the way, it’s _laughable_ that _you_ are calling _me_ a brat.” It had been one of the fandom in-jokes for a long time, after Jungwoo’s first reality show, how Jungwoo instantly fell back to whining whenever Taeil was firm with him. It was hard to _stay_ firm when Jungwoo was so unabashedly cute.

The sound of Doyoung shifting and groaning on the couch made Jungwoo stiffen before he could answer, and he quickly glanced over in his manager’s direction while Taeil quickly pulled back. “Damn it,” Jungwoo sighed under his breath, and added a bit louder, “Go back to sleep, hyung! I’m still working!”

“No you’re not. I’ve been _listening_ to you,” Doyoung replied, sitting up. Taeil had to turn away, he _couldn’t_ look Doyoung in the eye while he was sitting in Jungwoo’s lap. It was too weird. “I’m going to get coffee. I’ll be five minutes. Get it all out of your systems while I’m gone.”

“We weren’t—” Taeil began to protest, but before he could form a sentence, Jungwoo was talking over him: “You got it, _hyung._ Take your time.”

Doyoung stood up, running his fingers once through his messy hair and glancing at his phone screen before he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Taeil had to laugh, particularly as Jungwoo stuck out his tongue at Doyoung’s turned back.

“We _weren’t.”_

“As far as I’m concerned, he just gave us an _open invitation_ to make out for five minutes,” Jungwoo responded adamantly, and that comfortable hand at the small of his back was creeping up the back of Taeil’s shirt before he knew it, making him shiver with pleasure. “We haven’t gotten very many of those lately.”

“Hm.” Taeil relaxed again, bringing their foreheads back together and closing his eyes. “Brat,” he accused, just centimeters from Jungwoo’s lips— but just like always, Taeil couldn’t bring himself to argue. _Brat_ was just another of Jungwoo’s many charms, and it always seemed to get him his way.

//

Jungwoo’s album would be released on March 21st, on the first day of spring. It felt symbolically resilient, after a long winter of hard work and uncertainty, and Taeil was _unspeakably_ proud of his boyfriend for the twelve amazing tracks that he’d put together, all his own.

Of course, Taeil also knew that this meant preparing for a Jungwoo-drought. Despite the lack of TV appearances he’d had in the beginning, his fans had created so much buzz that the music shows had invited him back anyway. With any luck, his schedule would be as jam-packed as it always was, and the only place Taeil would be able to see him was on his phone screen.

Two weeks beforehand, though, Jungwoo had ambushed him in his office, _quivering_ with the excitement of undelivered good news, and he’d barely been able to give Taeil a kiss before he’d blurted out: “President-nim _finally_ gave me the okay to move out.”

“Wha— what?”

“Do you want to live together again, hyung?”

And, well— it was a no-brainer, really. Taeil liked living by himself just fine, but living with Jungwoo added a much-needed rhythm to his life. He was more likely to wake up at a decent time when he had someone to wake up with, less likely to forget to eat with someone to cook for, and of course, he slept the most soundly with Jungwoo’s warmth around him and his comforting scent lingering in his nose.

On the last day off that Jungwoo would be afforded before his comeback, _once again,_ Taeil helped him lug all his boxes and suitcases into yet another apartment. It was a grueling task, and _unpacking_ would be equally taxing. Jungwoo collapsed dramatically into Taeil’s bed after stacking the last of his luggage near the closet, proposing they take a “quick break”, though Taeil knew better— it only took his presence in the bed _beside_ Jungwoo before the idol was miraculously buzzing with energy again, kissing his neck and tugging at his clothes. For the first time in ages, there was no rush, and they made reckless, spontaneous love in the middle of the afternoon. Afterwards, Taeil lay breathless and noodle-limbed on Jungwoo’s chest; they listened to music on Taeil’s bedroom speakers and made sporadic bursts of conversation about whatever came to mind, hedonistically letting the minutes tick by. Jungwoo’s eyes fluttered closed before long, breaths quiet and shallow as he dozed.

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

“Just resting my eyes,” Jungwoo lied coyly, giving Taeil a squeeze.

“The industry is prematurely aging you,” Taeil teased dryly, giving him a kiss on the shoulder before finally shifting his weight to sit up. The blanket fell away, and Taeil shivered, but resisted the initial instinct to cover himself up— and he couldn’t deny the surge of satisfaction he felt when Jungwoo’s eyes opened to drink him in. Face turned away to hide his blush, he stood up and let him enjoy the view while he crossed the room for his robe. “Are you hungry? What should I make for dinner?”

“Hmm…” Jungwoo rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin up on his hand as he watched Taeil without shame. “How about pancakes? You make amazing pancakes.”

“I’m guessing you’re not supposed to be eating pancakes this close to promotions?” Taeil teased, and when Jungwoo pouted, he laughed. “Hey, I’m not your manager anymore. It’s none of my business.”

“Let me have my humanity for one more night before I have to sell my soul!” Jungwoo moved a little more slowly, fishing for his shirt and underwear amongst the tangled sheets as he hummed along to the song playing softly in the background. _(Love in Color,_ one of Taeyeon’s early B-sides— Taeil was surprised that he knew it.) “I’ll be done promoting in the spring though,” he added suddenly, meeting Taeil’s eyes in a way that felt almost shy. “I was thinking… y’know, my mom’s birthday is in May… and I missed the last couple, but I should probably go home for this one. As much as my dad feels like a stranger to me…”

“I understand,” Taeil responded immediately, smiling in encouragement. “I think you should. It might be hard, but I bet he’ll be glad to see you in person.”

“Yeah. I hope so. He called me with basically an ‘I told you so’ when I got outed, so…” Jungwoo trailed off, with a hint of bitterness in his voice that made Taeil’s chest tight with sympathy. He tied the robe sash at his waist, and before he could return to console him with a kiss, Jungwoo went on, “Would you want to come with me and meet him, maybe? My dad has always kind of scoffed at the idea of me settling down with a guy, but I feel like you’re the type of boyfriend that he’d actually approve of. You’re smart, and responsible, and thoughtful…”

The offer caught Taeil aback, but the realization reached him quickly: it might have scared the shit out of him, but Jungwoo was offering whole-heartedly, trying to patch together a family with the tattered scraps that he had left. The thought seemed to fill Taeil’s soul with helium, and he was almost _floating_ as he crossed the room to take Jungwoo into his arms.

“I would love that. I really would, Jungwoo.”

Taeyeon’s song had come to an end, and there was a moment between them of nothing but their breathing in the silence— and then the next song on the shuffled playlist began, and Taeil felt the muted gasp that gripped Jungwoo’s body. “Hyung— do you know this song?”

 _“Your bigger hands, your taller height,_ _  
_ _You’re a bit older than me,_ _  
_ _Once, I thoughtlessly passed you by,_   
Now, I only want to be closer and closer…”

“I’d know this voice anywhere.” Taeil smiled as he pulled back, looking Jungwoo in his teary eyes. He couldn’t quite blame him. It _was_ quite the coincidence, to have one of Kim Jieun’s songs pop up on shuffle at such a perfect moment. “Maybe she’s letting you know that she’s here.”

Jungwoo laughed, shakily, and hid his face in Taeil’s shoulder. “Maybe,” he agreed softly, giving his lover a trembling squeeze. In that moment, Jungwoo was no longer his star, no longer his sun— he was his _earth,_ his rock, his ocean, his oxygen. The time of free-floating uncertainty was finally over, and at last, at _last,_ Taeil was home.


	12. Epilogue: Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS AT LAST AHHH. I have to admit, this epilogue feels like it falls a little short, but I think that's just what happens when I end things... _ending things is too damn hard._ But I'm beyond proud of this story (over 2x as long as my second longest!) and so glad that people stuck it out until the end with me. Thanks again for all the awesome support and feedback!!
> 
> P.S. I think I've broken myself, you should _see_ how many Taeil plots are on my plot list right now. 👍

Taeil was not so naive as to think that happy endings were easy. There were always trials, especially in relationships— and  _ especially  _ in relationships with international gay icons.

All joking aside, Jungwoo’s schedule was harder for Taeil to swallow when he was no longer living it alongside him. Jungwoo woke up with the sun, and Taeil still woke up with him, even though he didn’t have to, because he knew that he might very well be asleep by the time Jungwoo got home. Sometimes those obscenely early mornings, a few half-asleep words over coffee, were all they had time for. And sometimes it was actually  _ harder  _ to see Jungwoo come home, looking practically dead on his feet and seeming to smile only for Taeil’s peace of mind.

No, loving someone so  _ loved  _ was not an easy thing. But it  _ did  _ make him feel pretty special, knowing that he was loved so feverishly in return. Seeing Jungwoo’s name light up his phone in the evening always came with an electric surge of excitement.

_ “Congrats, babe, you’re dating an Inkigayo winner  _ 😘 _ I’ll be home very soon!” _

It was past 11, but suddenly Taeil was wide awake. He’d made dinner a few hours before— homemade curry stew,  _ lots  _ of beef and potatoes, just how he knew Jungwoo liked it— and he turned the burner on beneath the skillet to reheat it. He filled the tea infuser with chamomile, turned on the electric kettle for hot water, and tried not to listen too hard for the sound of Jungwoo’s footsteps coming down the hall.

Of course, Taeil had his own job, and his own stresses throughout the day. Working as a producer at SM, as expected, was no picnic. But there was something strangely therapeutic about coming home and cooking a meal that he knew his boyfriend would like, and then staying up to enjoy it with him. The moments of normalcy that they somehow found between them made up for everything else.

“Baby, I’m home!” Jungwoo announced his presence loudly as he stepped through the front door, and he moved like he was feeling lighter than air as he made his way over to embrace his lover. “Did you watch me? Did you see how  _ ugly  _ I cried on live TV?”

Taeil  _ did  _ watch, he watched  _ all  _ of Jungwoo’s stages—  _ Without You  _ had to be his favorite of his boyfriend’s title tracks. He’d picked lyrics and substance over choreo this time, giving him a chance to focus on his live vocals. And frankly, every anti-fan who had made fun of Jungwoo’s voice at debut would probably be eating their words. No one could deny his improvement, and all the hard work he’d put in to make it happen.

And  _ god,  _ was Taeil ever proud. If he couldn’t be onstage himself, surely this was the next best thing.

“You were precious! Your fan cafe has been going crazy, you know. Everyone’s so emotional!” Taeil smiled fondly, turning to place a peck on the corner of Jungwoo’s mouth. “I’m so fucking proud of you. 50,000 sales, a music show win… next it’s gonna be a world tour, and you’re going to get swept away from me again.”

“Oh yeah?” Jungwoo raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah. You’ll meet some fancy European guy who will steal you away from me, just wait.”

“As if! You’re stuck with me!” Jungwoo replied cheekily, and the way he swept Taeil into his arms for a  _ proper  _ kiss was enough to convince him. “Besides— that curry smells  _ amazing.  _ Only the best boyfriend in the entire  _ universe  _ would come home from work, cook my favorite food, and then stay awake to eat it with me. And in return, all I can give you is this.” He reached into his bag, fumbled for a moment, and finally pulled out his Inkigayo trophy to put in Taeil’s hands. “What a shame.”

Jungwoo had won a handful of music show trophies before:  _ View, Press Your Number, Married to the Music.  _ But this one meant more than any of the others, in Taeil’s opinion, and he was sure to win more. Jungwoo simply  _ sparkled  _ when he performed these days, and—  _ and I suppose I’m responsible for that, in part. Maybe he won’t leave. Maybe this is it for us, just this, forever and ever. _

“I knew I cleared off that bookshelf in the living room for a good reason!” Taeil commented brightly, blinking back his tears and trying not to sound as emotional as he felt as he broke out of Jungwoo’s arms to go put the trophy in its designated place. “What’s on the schedule for tomorrow, anyway? No music shows on Mondays.”

“That’s almost the best part!” Jungwoo’s attention, predictably, had turned to the food (it was only a matter of time), and when Taeil returned to the kitchen, Jungwoo was fixing a bowl for each of them. “I’m taping a segment with Allure magazine, but I don’t have to be there until 2 in the afternoon.”

Taeil broke out into a smile. “Probably the first time that I’ve ever had to be to work before you!”

“Which means, of course, that I’ll be waking up to make you breakfast in bed for a change,” Jungwoo added, with the smallest of smirks accompanying his next suggestion: “Maybe we’ll have time to shower together. Been awhile.”

The hint was not lost on Taeil, and he nudged Jungwoo with his foot under the table when he sat down. “Save your energy.”

“I don’t have to dance tomorrow. Just saying.” Jungwoo nudged him back, eyes glittering with merriment. And to be honest, Taeil couldn’t really argue with  _ that. _ “But tonight,” Jungwoo added, before Taeil could tease him back, “I just want you to hold me. Because I really,  _ really  _ miss you.”

Such a pure request, it was enough to melt Taeil’s heart. He missed Jungwoo too, every second that they weren’t together. And that was conviction enough, Taeil was certain.

_ Maybe I’m his universe, too. _


End file.
